There is a first time for everything
by squarey
Summary: Slow Saturday. Ch 22. First Gift. This story follows Bobby through some relationship firsts. And now there seems to be a baby story in here. Some are fluffy, some are angsty, some are just a day in the life. Thx for reading.
1. A giant note from the author

**This is a giant author's note**:

Before we jump into this session of short attention span character stuff, if you are a new reader, maybe scan the below.  
If not, feel free to skip ahead.

_**There is a first time for everything**_ will jump around in time sequence and follow "first time" kinds of things in a relationship (and I of course always welcome readers to offer up a "first time" thing to inspire me). So in the following chapters, I'm not sure there will be much back story, I'm just jumping in with both feet. So, below is my effort at backstory.

Believe it or not, there are actually two relationships burning their way through my brain cells. One, the one I tend to write the most about because I can't keep my neurons away from Bobby Goren, is a relationship between Bobby and Lucy, first as friends, now as more. Then, in _**Parallel**_ I gave Alex a hot, younger, NYPD firefighter. So, I reserve the right to bring those two in, if the muse thumps me on the head.

Anyway, here is related stuff, in the order I posted it:

_**The doctor is in**_  
Meet Lucy Jones, a friend for Bobby.  
(this is fiction, and when I wrote their meeting I was jumping off from Untethered, I intended it as a short shot of about three chapters, so I thank some readers for suspending their ethical compass about how they met, I'm thinking we do it for TV and fiction all the time)

_**An adage for a friend**_  
Follows the friendship of Bobby and Lucy, with tons of adages about friendship offered to me by a lot of fabulous readers.

_**Four funerals and a wedding**_  
I can't seem to stay away from Bobby and Lucy.

_**A bedtime verse**_  
Bobby's life is still crashing around him, crafted around three different versions (endings) of "Now I lay me down to sleep..."

_**And so it goes**_  
Bobby and Lucy slip the line of friendship (I love this Billy Joel song).

…and you also see some character stuff in _**Parallel**_.

Thanks! Enjoy.


	2. First Fight

…fast forward to – **"****First Fight****"**  
(you know the one, where someone actually slams out of the house)  
Point of view: Lucy Jones, first person.

* * *

"Damn it Lucy." Bobby's voice was that loud raspy kind of yell that I knew meant he was very, very upset. 

"Bobby…" I tried to say something in my defense, but I realized I didn't really have anything to say. He had a right to be mad.

"I am the police. I… am… the… police…" He shouted at me and reached into his pocket, yanking out his badge, shoving it toward my face. "Don't." He said, "Don't look at me like that with that yes-and-no look. I am the police, so if you called the police, if you involved the police, then somehow, I think, that you might have called me." He was still kind of waving his badge at me. Did I mention, he was very, very upset?

"I, um…" I stammered, turning away for a moment, trying to get some inner balance. Earlier in the day, I had walked out of my office building and had almost physically walked into a suspect in an active case within SVU. He knew me, he called me by name, it was clear to me that he was not outside of my building by accident. But, he hadn't touched me, and I actually didn't think he was interested in physically harming me. However, he was interested in intimidating me from staying away from counseling his wife.

"Damn it, damn it, damn it." Bobby slammed his detective's shield onto the table.

"I called Detective Benson. She responded right away. Detective Stabler knows as well." I offered, turning back around to look at Bobby. He didn't look any less stressed, any less upset. "They are handling this." I said, looking at him.

"'Handling this… _this_?" He used my words back at me. "A minute ago you said _this_ was probably nothing, and now it is a _this_?" He ran his hand across his head, scratching his fingers through his hair. He was breathing heavily.

"I think it is nothing." I kept my voice soft.

"Make up your mind." He snapped at me.

"Bobby." I stepped toward him, but he was so angry that he stepped away, holding his hands out toward me.

"I don't know what you think I'm supposed to do." He said. "What the hell am I supposed to do?" He asked, and I couldn't decide if it was rhetorical.

"I know what I don't want you to do…" I said, and he looked at me.

"I know what you don't want me to do." He said, after a long moment of processing my words.

"I don't want you to jump into this without thinking this through." I offered.

"You don't want me to go over and pound my fist into that guy's face." He offered, at the same time as me.

"That too." I allowed, trying to suppress a smile. Bobby clearly was not in a smiling mood.

"You should've called me. You could've called me. That's my job." He held his hands out at me, in the hyper flexed way he had when he was trying to emphasize what he was saying.

"You're job as what?" I asked, and he looked at me. I knew that he knew what I meant; I knew that he knew that I was asking if it was his job as an NYPD officer or if it was his job because he loved me. He had started the argument by reminding me he was a police officer, and I wondered if that was the real reason he was so upset.

"It's my job because I love you, God damn it." He surprised me by the quickness of his response.

"I love you too." I said, watching him snatch up his badge and shove it back into his pocket. "Where are you going?" I realized he was turning toward the door.

"To pound my fist into that guy's face." He said, and I thought he was kidding, well half way.

"Bobby…" I said, taking a step toward him.

"I have that thing with Logan." He said, over his shoulder.

"But that doesn't necessarily mean you're not doing the other thing as well."

"I have that thing with Logan." He reiterated, his voice still raspy but not as loud. "You should've called me." He said.

"I should've called you." I agreed with him, and I watched him slam out the front door.


	3. First Make up

**First Make-up**  
(you know the one, after the first fight where someone actually stomps out :)  
Point of view: Bobby

* * *

Bobby put his key in the lock to let himself in. He could tell by the way certain lights were on that Lucy was still awake. He had intended to meet Logan for a drink, and had entertained the thought of getting absolutely drunk, but he hadn't even managed his way through a single beer. His brain was spinning, imagining Lucy walking out of her building, imagining some perp trying to intimidate her, knowing her name, saying her name, like that perp had a right to say her name. 

He had called Benson for the details of the case, for her take on the perp. Benson agreed with Lucy, that she felt that this guy was not an imminent threat. But that piece of information had only infuriated him further. Threat was a funny thing, sometimes it simply turned around, turned into a homicide for no apparent reason. He didn't like Benson's assessment; he didn't like that Lucy hadn't called him. He had hung up the phone on Benson, realizing that the real purpose of his call was not to get Benson's opinion, but to let Benson know he knew about the situation.

He sat with Mike for a while, feeling very grouchy. And while Logan managed to get quite drunk, Bobby simply got more angry. Finally, Bobby gave up trying to get drunk, gave up trying to let it go, and gave up trying to stay away from Lucy until he calmed down. He realized he needed her to calm down; he needed to be with her to calm down.

"Well sunshine, I'll see you tomorrow." Mike said, watching Bobby go. Bobby shot Logan a shut-up type look, and Logan merely winked at him.

At Lucy's, Bobby walked into the foyer, hanging his coat on the coat rack in the corner. He walked into the family room, the TV was on, the couch cushions were rumpled, there was an afghan kind of bunched up on one end. He could tell Lucy had been sitting there watching TV. He sat down, not really paying attention to what was on, listening to the sounds in the rooms, trying to determine where she was. He realized he could hear her in the kitchen, walking down the hall back toward the family room.

"Hey." She said, as she walked in. She was wearing her nightgown, a pale silky one with whisper thin straps. It hung snugly against her every curve. He liked her nightgowns, he liked the silky feel of them, he liked how they clung to her every curve. Sometimes she wore pajama bottoms and a camisole kind of top, other times she wore nightgowns. He was filing away information to see if he could detect a pattern when she wore one versus the other, but it still felt a bit random. However it did not seem random tonight, he was thinking she was wearing this nightgown to distract him from their earlier argument. And, he realized that she was doing a good job of distracting him.

He watched her walk over and sit across from him on the large ottoman that doubled as a coffee table. She sat for a moment, her legs crossed lightly at the ankles, her hands on her thighs. She looked as if she wanted to say something, so he waited. But he realized that maybe she didn't want to say something, that she was waiting for him to say something.

"You should've called me." He said the words, he couldn't stop himself.

"I should've called you." Lucy replied, agreeing with him, her voice soft. She moved, uncrossing her ankles. He was distracted by the fullness of her breasts against the low v-neckline of the nightgown. "Did you go over and punch that guy in the face?" She asked, but he could tell she was poking at him, that she knew he hadn't done that.

"I called Benson." He offered, his eyes were moving lower along her body, across her narrow waist, to the spread of her hips as she sat in front of him.

"I know." She replied, not really surprising him. He had figured Benson would call Lucy, close the circle of communication. He watched Lucy lean toward him, moving her feet apart just as his eyes were getting to her legs. Almost as if he couldn't help himself, he reached out, moving the backs of his hands to her knees, running them up the insides of her thighs, spreading her legs open.

"You should've called me because I love you." He whispered, leaning toward her, his desire for her physically pulling him closer into her orbit.

"I should've called you because you love me." She said, her voice such a soft whisper he barely heard her. She reached out and began to unbutton his shirt, undo his belt, the top of his pants. "I should've called you because I love you." She rephrased the sentence they had been exchanging. His hands were still way up high on her bare inner thighs, his fingers pressing softly into her flesh.

"You should've." He realized he was barely making sense, he was very distracted.

"I'm sorry." Her voice broke. She hadn't yet apologized, and as she said the words she moved toward him, on top of him, straddling him on the sofa. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." She said again, as she kissed him, threading her arms around him, pushing his shirt away from his body as he pushed her nightgown up and over her head.

"I love you." He said and he couldn't imagine why he had thought spending the evening not drinking a beer with Mike Logan would help bring him perspective, bring him back to center. He needed Lucy for that, he needed her touch, he needed her love, even when he was angry with her, he needed her. He closed his eyes as she kissed him, and a small part of his brain still reserved the right to go by and intimidate the guy who had tried to intimidate Lucy, but the rest of his senses were assaulting him with the feel of her skin on his skin, her lips on his lips, her lips on his skin, and he realized that the more important decision in front of him was if they should stay on the couch or if they should try to make it to the bedroom.

* * *

**A/N**: I think I would break-up to make-up with Bobby. What is another excellent first time type thing? 


	4. First Dance

**First Dance**  
Point of view: Lucy Jones, first person.

* * *

"So, whose idea was this?" I was smiling at Bobby, the music so loud I could barely hear my own voice. I could see Bobby replying, but had no idea what he was saying. So, I smiled and kind of nodded, and then finally I shrugged. He smiled because he could tell I had no idea what he was saying. I watched him point to the bar, indicating he was getting himself something to drink, asking me if I wanted anything. I pointed to the same glass of water I'd had for the past 30 minutes, that was still pretty full. I watched him walk off to get another beer. 

The club was fairly crowded, mostly people in their 30s, well, maybe their late 20s. I was a terrible judge of age. We were out with Alex Eames and her NYPD firefighter friend Jon Riddle. He was very nice, perhaps a few years younger than me, which made him a several years younger than Alex. But, they seemed great together. I had never really seen Alex having fun. Mostly, when I had occasion to meet Alex or talk with Alex, the situation was decidedly not fun.

Bobby returned with his beer and stood next to me. We were on some kind of upper deck, with the dance floor like ½ a floor below us. I could see Alex dancing with Jon; they were smiling at each other and acting generally pretty goofy. I felt like I was in some kind of alternate reality, watching acerbic Alex Eames be a bit goofy.

Bobby was tapping my shoulder, and I could see him talking to me, but I still could not hear a word he was saying. Again, I did the smile and shrug thing, and he gave up on conversing with me. We stood next to each other and people watched for a while. I thought that Bobby seemed pretty comfortable in any venue when he could be left be left alone, and be the observer. He reminded me of a social scientist, kind of studying the culture around him.

I, of course, was studying him. Sometimes, I just couldn't help myself. Each time I thought I had a part of him figured out, I realized I was only scratching the surface of some deeper complexity. Though tonight, there was nothing particularly deep about my thoughts. I was simply admiring how handsome he looked. He was wearing a dark button down shirt and dark pants. I thought to myself that in terms of his attire, he kind of fit into the crowd in the club. But as always, his size seemed to set him apart. He really was much taller than most men, and just generally a lot bigger. I smiled to myself as I realized his age kind of set him apart as well. His short salt and pepper hair gave him away as no longer 20, and no longer 30.

I watched him set his empty beer glass onto the table. He gestured toward the dance floor and grabbed me by the hand. At first I smiled widely, clearly revealing that I thought he was kidding. I could not remember the last time I had been to a club like this, let alone the last time I had danced at a club like this. He tightened his grip on my hand and pulled me forward a few steps. Too late, I realized he was serious. I had never danced with him before, in fact I had never even seen him dance. I couldn't really fathom why he was choosing this moment for our first dance, in this crowded club. Maybe it was the third beer he had just finished that had set him over the edge. But my inhibitions were still firmly in place, and I was nervous as he led me down the short flight of stairs and propelled me out onto the dance floor.

I could hear Marvin Gaye's "Got to Give it Up" starting, and I actually laughed out loud. The experience was becoming more surreal by the moment. I could see Alex and Jon leaving the dance floor, as were quite a few other people. The retro tune was probably not their speed. But, I was soon to find out it was most definitely the perfect song for Bobby.

Without even missing a beat of the music, he moved one arm around me, the other holding my hand. We were about 30 seconds into the song when I realized that Bobby was effortlessly leading me through an incredible rendition of the _hustle_.

I gave myself to Bobby and let him lead me through the Marvin Gaye lyrics, – _I used to go out to parties; And stand around; 'Cause I was too nervous; To really get down; And my body yearned to be free; So I got up on the floor and found; Someone to choose me_. My father used to dance with me all of the time, and though I was no where near as comfortable with the _hustle_ as Bobby appeared to me, I was pretty good at following a strong leader, and Bobby was incredible.

As the song neared the end, he gracefully spun me out in a full turn, and when he brought me back in, my back was to his chest, his arms wrapped around me, and he dipped me slightly backward and kissed me softly on the lips. I couldn't help it, I burst into giggles, and reached up to touch his face. I felt like I was in that scene in Saturday Night Fever, when John Travolta spun the Stephanie character around in a very similar move.

He pulled me up from the dip, spun me around to face him, and kissed me again, this time, pulling me close. I threaded my arms around him and kissed him so soundly that he actually lifted my feet off the floor.

* * *

**Author's Note**: Many thanks to SoutherGaelic and JanxAngel for _First Dance_. In my mind, there are two standout episodes where Bobby hits the dance floor (one is in some kind of dance class where he is trying to figure out who is robbing banks by strapping a fake bomb to herself (supposed to be fake anyway), another where he is questioning a paid-to-dance-club girl in relation to the murder of her petite friend). In both he is super, super sexy.

Funny right, but I definitely remember the _hustle_. I bet Bobby knows all kinds of dances. Thanks for all of the ideas and reviews.


	5. First Holiday

**First Holiday**  
Point of view: Bobby

* * *

Bobby held a candle in his hand and did his best at singing the hymn. He didn't mind that everyone in the church sounded a bit off tune, a bit flat, he didn't mind that there were tiny little drips of warm wax on some of his fingers, he didn't mind that his shoes were killing him and he was a little warm in his jacket, he didn't mind any of it. He was standing in church, next to Lucy, and he felt like there had never been a better Christmas Eve in his entire life. 

_Angels we have heard on high_  
_Sweetly singing o'er the plains,_  
_And the mountains in reply_  
_Echoing their joyous strains._  
_Gloria, in excelsis Deo!_  
_Gloria, in excelsis Deo! _

His mind wandered across his life, across the Christmases from his childhood. He recognized that a major tell of the chaos of his childhood was that he actually had a hard time putting a coherent time sequence in place. So his memories were a jumble of disorganized Christmases, strained Christmas dinners, forgotten Christmas presents, and arguments. He realized that his greatest relief had come when he was out of the house, away at college, and didn't actually return home for Christmas. Better yet, was when he was overseas at Christmas time, so he didn't feel so guilty for not going home for Christmas.

He jumped a bit when Lucy reached over to take the candle from his hand. He relinquished the melty white wax to her, and he watched her place a paper disc around the base to protect her hand from the wax. He wondered why he hadn't realized that was what the disc was for. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to filter out the sound of the choir, the sound of the other church goers' voices and listen to the sound of Lucy. He loved the sound of her, her singing was light and soft, he concentrated on listening to her sing the hymn, letting the unsettling memories of his childhood quiet in his soul.

_Shepherds, why this jubilee?_  
_Why your joyous strains prolong?_  
_What the gladsome tidings be_  
_Which inspire your heavenly song?_  
_Gloria, in excelsis Deo!_  
_Gloria, in excelsis Deo!_

When Bobby opened his eyes again, Lucy caught his hand in hers. He could feel her thumb run over some of the cooled white candle wax. She smiled up at him, squeezing his hand in hers. He was a man who had not really known much happiness. His life was full of cautious moments, where he would feel happy, but realize that he was holding his breath waiting for something in life to turn and take it all away.

_Come to Bethlehem and see_  
_Christ Whose birth the angels sing;_  
_Come, adore on bended knee,_  
_Christ the Lord, the newborn King._  
_Gloria, in excelsis Deo!_  
_Gloria, in excelsis Deo!_

He thought to himself that if you had asked him about religion what seemed like just a short while ago, he would've said he was a lapsed Catholic. People who knew him thought that he had very little faith. In fact, he probably would have agreed. His life had such instability it was difficult to have faith. His job introduced such violence and inhumanity, it was difficult to have faith. But he was a man who desperately wanted to have faith, he needed to make peace within himself. And when each day was done, he had come to learn that Lucy helped to bring the possibility of finding peace.

_See Him in a manger laid,_  
_Whom the choirs of angels praise;_  
_Mary, Joseph, lend your aid,_  
_While our hearts in love we raise._  
_Gloria, in excelsis Deo!_  
_Gloria, in excelsis Deo_

Final verse, he thought to himself. And, he remembered from reading the Christmas Eve program earlier that this was the last hymn of the evening. So, when the song was done, people were turning, and hugging, some were kissing each other on the cheek, wishing each other a happy holiday. He shifted his weight slightly so he could kiss Lucy.

"I think my arm is asleep." He whispered to her, and she smiled, holding her hands out. But, he shook Lucy off. His arm was asleep because he held his sleeping infant daughter across his shoulder. It was her first Christmas, and he had come to church to sing with his family. Just a few years ago, he would never have been able to imagine this moment. In fact, just a few years ago, he had problems imagining anything beyond the moment he was living. "Merry Christmas." He smiled.

* * *

_**Author's Note**_: Thanks to Aubrinaa for the First Holiday idea. This is what popped into my brain. A way fast forward to a possible future. I don't know why, I imagine Bobby with daughters. 


	6. First Discovery

**First ****Discovery**

"I don't know about this." I said as I let Bobby tie one of his neckties around my eyes as a kind of make shift blind fold. I had heard him in the kitchen earlier and just assumed he was making himself something to eat. I had not imagined he was making me something to eat. In fact, it was late and I had already fixed myself a light dinner.

I know that whatever was going on at work was difficult. For the past few days he hadn't really been very communicative. Sometimes, if he was skipping around across multiple cases he would call periodically throughout the day, just for a minute to say hey, or see if anything was going on. Part of me thought that whatever he was doing was his need to kind of reconnect and check in with me.

"I just need your opinion on something." He said, in his best serious tone, but I could hear in his voice that he was in a playful kind of mood. I let him lead me into the kitchen, and he gently set me down into a chair. I could hear him pull a chair up opposite me, and I could feel his knees touching mine so I knew there was nothing between us. I tried to relax with my eyes blindfolded, and I knew I could smell something familiar… coffee?

"Ok. So open your mouth and close your eyes…" He smiled.

"I'm blindfolded." I laughed a little, maybe a little nervously. I knew he was going to have me taste something, whatever he had been crashing around in the kitchen cooking.

"I need to know something about you." He said, his voice not playful, but intimately serious. "Something no on else knows." He confided. I nodded, and licked my lips and opened my mouth a bit. I was surprised when I felt his arms come around me and he kissed me, his lips on mine, his tongue tracing the outline of my lower lip. A most delicious kiss.

"I think you already know that about me." I laughed.

"Right, I was distracted." He replied, his voice a little raspy. "Ok, so open your mouth and close your eyes…" And I did as he asked. I could feel his fingers against my lips as he placed something chocolaty into my mouth. I hesitantly munched down, and was pleasantly surprised by a very plump chocolate covered strawberry. The chocolate was kind of melty. I didn't smell coffee, I smelled fondue.

"Oh, that's good." I said through a mouthful of chocolate enrobed strawberry.

"Wait, let's try something else." He said, and I thought his tone sounded rather scientific. "Try this." He said, and placed another yummy chocolaty morsel in my mouth. This time I recognized marshmallow.

"Oh, that's good." I mumbled as I chewed the heavenly marshmallow.

"Which one is better?" He asked, and I thought I could hear the sound of a pencil on paper.

"Well, they both have chocolate, so they're both pretty good." I replied.

"Which one is better?" He asked again.

"The marshmallow." I replied.

"The what?" He said, clearly revealing that he preferred the strawberry. I thought his mouth sounded full.

"Are you eating?" I asked.

"Of course not." He said, but I knew he was eating as well, and he was probably eating one of the strawberries.

"How about this." He whispered, this time getting a bit of chocolate on my lips, which he wiped away a bit erotically with his thumb.

"Oh, yeah, now that, that is good." I said kind of humming with a bit of pleasure. It was coconut.

"Which is better?"

"Coconut." I mumbled as I enjoyed the yummy bit of coconut and chocolate in my mouth. Again, I could hear the pencil scratching.

"Now this." He said, and I tasted yellow cake, which was good, but not nearly anywhere near as good as the coconut, or the marshmallow.

"Coconut." I said again.

"That was cake." He said, and he sounded a little confused.

"No, I mean I still like the coconut best." I licked my lips.

"Don't do that." He said.

"What?" I asked.

"I'll never be able to finish this if you lick your lips like that again." He said, again I could feel his thumb on my lips, but this time I kissed his thumb.

"Quit it, only one more." He said.

"Ok." I took a deep breath. I opened my mouth and he placed an absolutely phenomenal tasting morsel of peanut butter completely smothered in chocolate in my mouth. This time I actually moaned.

"Which one?" He asked. I pushed the necktie blindfold up and away from my eyes, and could see everything meticulously laid out on a tray, quickly I could see that he didn't even attempt the pineapple or the banana, he had cut straight to the peanut butter.

"I don't think you have my favorite on the tray." I said, and he looked puzzled, as if he had accounted for everything. I could see he had constructed a list, rank ordering things – peanut butter, coconut, marshmallow, strawberry, cake. I remembered a conversation we had in bed the other night, when he was trying to find out my favorite candy. I had replied that I liked most anything covered in chocolate. He had insisted I must have a favorite, and I had allowed that I probably liked fruit less than other things. He really was quite a fascinating man to design an experiment to discover my favorite candy.

"This is what I really love." I smiled, dipping two fingers into the warm fondue and touching his mouth with the chocolate. I leaned forward kissing the chocolate from his lips, moving toward him to sit straddled across his lap on the chair. He kissed me deeply in return. "You should write that down." I whispered, and took the pencil from him and wrote _Bobby_ at the top of his list.

* * *

_**Author's Note**_: So Clue Impaired kind of entered this into my brain when she mentioned chocolate (though this is not at a picnic, I have another idea for that). Anyway, I love fondue and couldn't get this out of my head. Thanks for reading and talking with me with your reviews. 


	7. First time out as a couple

**The first time out as a couple (well almost)**  
Point of view: Lucy Jones, first person

* * *

The first time I went out with Bobby "as a couple," everyone thought I was with Mike Logan, and they continued to think that way for months to come. 

"So you'll meet me?" Bobby was on the phone asking me to meet him at some after work happy hour. They had just closed some major thing, and Mike Logan had coerced everyone into going out for a beer.

"Sure, I'll meet you." I replied, not knowing how I could say no. We hadn't been together, in the together sense of the word, very long and I wondered if he had thought through the fact that he was mixing his personal life with work by inviting me join him. But, on the other hand, I was social with Mike Logan and Alex would also be there. I recognized the name of the place as a major court house hang out, kind of a mix of cops and DAs office people. I figured Mike had picked the venue. I listened to Bobby name the time. "See you there."

Traffic was so miserable I had the cab driver let me out and I walked the last block. I ran into Bobby, Alex, and Mike as they were headed through the door. Bobby kissed me on my temple and held the door, so I walked in first, with Mike close behind then Bobby walked in with Alex. First impressions are everything in the small world of gossip. So, strike one was that everyone assumed that Bobby and Alex were together, partners grabbing a drink after work, and that suggested that I was there with Mike Logan.

I listened to Bobby and Mike order a shot with a beer back, Alex simply ordered a beer, and I ordered a sparkling water. I don't know how we managed to find a table for four, but we sat boy-girl-boy-girl around the table, so it was still easy to think I was with Mike and Bobby was with Alex. Bobby wasn't exactly a public display of affection kind of a guy, especially with the stress of just getting off shift, sitting in a crowded bar.

Strike two was perhaps one of the more bizarre moments of the night. I stood to excuse myself to the ladies room, and Mike Logan stood to join me. I mean, what kind of guy goes with a girl to the restroom? Alex Eames could have come along, or Bobby could have come along to grab a private moment alone with me, but Mike Logan tagging along felt pretty odd. On the way back to the rest room, I realized that the kind of guy to tag along with a girl to the ladies room was the drunk kind. When we were walking across the bar, Mike kind of stumbled and caught himself by nearly falling on me. I am fairly certain that anyone from NYPD or the DAs office who had eyes thought that Mike and I were engaged in some kind of heated affair, pawing each other in the middle of a crowded bar during happy hour.

The only private moment I had with Bobby was a bit too private, for unfortunately no one else noticed. It happened in the narrow hall toward the restroom. I was ready to go home, Bobby was drunk, Logan was drunker, Eames had gone home.

"Bobby…" I saw him in the hall and he kind of tripped over me and crashed his back into the wall. He pulled me with him and forward against him. He reached out, playing with my hair a bit, running his finger down my cheek. His quiet brown eyes making my heart go still.

"Thanks for coming." He said, his words kind of slid together, he was still holding me close against him. I knew he wanted me there, I knew he wanted me anywhere. And that was why he called me to meet him at some bar. He hadn't really seen me all week and I thought that maybe he just needed me next to him for a while. "My day, well my day…" He didn't finish his thought, but a million adjectives flipped through my brain, none of them good. His week had been long and to him, the day had been bad. Sometimes the days they closed a case were not necessarily good days for Bobby. It was a strange life, he put a lot of personal energy into finding the truth, but just because he solved something didn't mean that there was no longer a victim. I reached out, placing my hand gently against his face, he yielded to my touch. "You feel good." He mumbled, his eyes closed, his large hands on my back.

"I would feel better at home." I replied, moving my hand to touch the grey at his temples, running my thumb lightly across his eyebrow. He agreed, softly kissing the heel of my palm as I touched his face. I indicated I would settle the tab at the bar and he said he would get us a cab.

Strike three was that on-lookers missed the truly tender exchange between myself and Bobby, but at the very end of happy hour everyone did see a public display of affection involving Mike. When I was at the bar settling the tab Mike came over and kind of squeezed in beside me, placing his arm around me, trying to get me to stay a while longer, to get Bobby to hang out a while longer. I softly told Mike it was nice to see him and told him find his way home soon. But no one heard what I had to say, they simply saw Mike Logan with his arm around me and me speaking softly to Mike. And so on Monday, practically the entirety of NYPD and the DAs office would be talking about Mike Logan's affair with me.

* * *

**_Author's Note_**: Thanks to bibliothecaire for this idea. I think I will play with this false impression in a few other scenes. Next up, a strained moment with Emil Skoda. Again, thanks for chatting with me in your reviews. I enjoy the reviews as much as the writing part. 


	8. First time running into an ex

**_First time running into an ex_**  
Point of view: Lucy Jones, first person

* * *

I was tired and ready to go home. Unfortunately, I was at the courthouse waiting for Bobby. He was talking with Alex Eames. They were waiting to provide testimony in a trial, however, the hour was getting late and it was looking like they wouldn't be testifying today. I kind of leaned my head back against the wall and closed my eyes. 

My thoughts felt kind of splintered, on the one hand my brain was rifling through images of how wonderful it felt for him to hold me in his arms at night, how strong his chest felt against my back as I slept, the feel of how his bristly stubble caught in my curly hair, all very tactile, all very real. But at the same time I couldn't seem to stop myself from thinking that Bobby was still largely in the same place he had been for a while. He couldn't seem to break the roller coaster pattern he had set in his life, where he would let work completely consume him for days, and then crash either as his work cases were closed or stagnated. So, we would go a few days without really seeing each other, then he would show up at my place either exhausted or drunk, kind refuel and go back out into the world. The only technical difference was that he was in my bed instead of on my couch.

I am old enough to know that people don't just wake up one day and fundamentally change who they are. Life is a slow process, growth is a slow process, and change is a slow process. And, Bobby was wired such that he had to see things for himself, feel things for himself, and figure things out by himself. I knew that someone could sit and tell him something, a fact or a truth, but he really didn't fully understand it until he integrated it into how his brain was organized. Sometimes he could do this quickly, especially at work, but in his personal life he was cautious and guarded. His family, his mother, his life were all reasons why he didn't exactly pivot quickly - or maybe it was that he pivoted too quickly, wanting something and afraid he would lose that something.

So I sat, lightly drumming the back of my head against the wall, thinking, waiting for Bobby, in both the literal and the figurative sense.

"Lucy." I opened my eyes slowly and was very surprised to see Emil Skoda standing in front of me. I had not seen him in person since that day at brunch when I had ended things. It was weird, seeing him now, here. My brain had a very difficult time switching from my inner thoughts to the fact that my ex-everything was standing in front of me.

"Emil." I said his name, and I stood, brushing my hands down my skirt, straightening my sweater, trying desperately to transition back into the present world.

"You look lovely." He smiled. He always had a way of saying those words that made me feel lovely, no matter how I felt on the inside.

"Thanks. You look well." I replied, and he did. He looked relaxed; he had some color in his complexion that a winter in Los Angeles might bring. 

"Yeah." He said, nodding, and we looked at each other for a moment, the silence painful.

"Well, I, um, I saw you, so I thought I would say hello." He offered a bit lamely. I nodded a little awkwardly. "So, you're seeing someone." He said, taking me completely off guard. Not everyone would have the spine to simply jump into a statement like that.

"Yes, yes I am." I replied, without hesitation.

"Mike Logan." Emil offered, and I smiled, and almost laughed. I thought that once gossip took hold, it was incredibly hard to dispel.

"No, I'm not seeing Mike Logan." I replied, and I thought Emil looked a bit relieved.

"Oh, I thought..." He began, "I thought that didn't sound quite right, Mike Logan is not exactly your type." Emil offered. I didn't know how to respond, but I didn't have to, for I suddenly noticed Bobby moving to stand just behind Emil.

"And what's wrong with Logan?" Bobby asked, and my mouth kind of fell open. I nervously fidgeted with my skirt, and tucked my hair behind my ear.

"Goren." Emil stepped aside so that Bobby could step forward into the conversation. "That's not what I meant." Emil tried to amend what he had said.

"Why isn't he Lucy's type?" Bobby asked. I was praying the conversation would not begin to ping pong between Emil and Bobby. I was trying to figure out how to stop that from happening. Bobby was obviously in a belligerent mood from waiting around the courthouse all day and having to likely do the same tomorrow.

"I just meant..." Emil looked at Bobby, then looked at me, then back at Bobby. "I just meant to say that whoever you are seeing, you look happy." Emil offered to me. And I could see it; I could see it in Emil's expression that he understood exactly who I was seeing. Something in the way he looked at Bobby, then at me, and back at Bobby. Emil knew me very well, and he could see my feelings in my eyes, in my body language, and my feelings were for Bobby.

"Thanks." I smiled at Emil.

"Anyway, it was nice to see you." Emil said to me. "Both of you." He offered as he looked at Bobby. I watched Emil walk down the hall.

"What was that?" I asked Bobby.

"What?" Bobby was still looking down the hall, watching Emil turn the corner.

"That... that whole Mike Logan thing."

"Why isn't Mike Logan your type?" Bobby asked, his brow knitting quizzically. "Is it because he's a cop?" Bobby asked, revealing more than he intended with the second part of his question. Bobby was a cop, he was somehow comparing himself to Mike Logan, and somehow thinking that what Emil meant was that there was no way that Bobby was my type.

"Bobby..." I placed my hands lightly on his chest, on his heart. He kind of tried to push me off, upset.

"Is it?" He asked.

"I'm not involved with Mike Logan." I looked up at Bobby.

"Yeah, you're involved with me. Did you say that?" He asked.

"I think Emil figured that out." I kept my hands over his heart, feeling his breathing, which was a bit uneven.

"How?" Bobby was still glaring down the hall.

"Well, that look, that look he had when he looked between us, I think he knew it then, I think he could see it." I stepped a little closer to Bobby, completely inside his personal space, wondering how long he would let me remain there.

"I don't know." Bobby mumbled, angry. He didn't see it, so he didn't believe it.

"Well I know." I looked up at him.

"Everyone will think you're cheating on Logan." He took my hands in his, and stepped back from my touch. I knew that it must have been difficult on him, coming up on me talking with Emil. I reached out for him again, this time touching my hand to his face.

"I know," I held his face and I held his eyes. "I know I'm with you." And I could see his expression soften a bit, and he did not step away. But I also knew that the unsettled feelings inside of him would wreak havoc within him at some later date.

* * *

**Author's Note**: _pfchristine_ and _k_ offered this idea. I actually have two scenes in my mind with Skoda... thanks for reading :) 


	9. First time you should've called

**The first time you should've called (and didn't)**

* * *

The first time Bobby Goren should've called (and didn't), he was drunk. Not falling down incoherent drunk, but drunk enough. Though, for Bobby this wasn't actually too surprising. In as much as some things change, other things remain the same. His cracked ribs were healing, he had returned to work regular duty. So, lately he was either at work, asleep, with Lucy, or drunk. It just so happened that often the last three things had overlap. 

He stood at her front door, his key in hand. It took him a few tries, but he finally matched the small metal key into the tiny slot in the bolt lock. He leaned slightly against the door, for balance, so when he finally opened the door he kind of came inside, quickly. He hung his coat on the coat rack and placed his keys in a dish on the foyer table. He stood for a moment, listening to the sounds in the house. This was kind of his habit, establishing where she was by looking at the lights, was the dishwasher running (she tended to start this before going to bed), what the family room looked like (was the TV on? Or was the couch all straightened like she had already gone to bed?). Tonight, the house was strangely quiet, the lights were off but the dishwasher was not running. So, he was receiving conflicting signals. Tonight, something was not quite as it should be.

He stood in the family room doorway, looking into the dark room, his eyes went first to the sofa, cushions were neat, afghan was folded over the arm. He was thinking about walking into the kitchen when he noticed her sitting in the chair. She was sitting in the dark, her knees tucked up to her chest, wearing her nightgown. Her hair was still kind of pulled back loosely into a clip, so she had not yet been to bed. If she had been asleep and had gotten up when she heard him at the door, her wild curls would have been spilling over her shoulders and down her back.

"Lucy." He said her name, still trying to make sense of all the mixed signals in the home. He watched her stand and walk toward him. She opened her arms and she kind of threw herself into his. She hugged him tightly, quickly, then she shifted and grabbed him by his shirt and kind of shook him. Her face was wet with tears, she was shaking and trying to shake him. But, since he was about twice her size she really wasn't moving him much.

"You…" She closed her eyes, her voice was soft, "you're Ok." She said, her voice still a whisper. She stopped trying to shake him, now she simply stood in front of him trembling.

"Yeah, I'm Ok." He replied, not exactly tracking what she was saying. He reached out as if to wipe the tears away from her face, but she stepped a small step backward, avoiding his touch. "Why wouldn't I be Ok?" He asked.

"Eames, she called my line for you. Ross, he called my line for you. They wouldn't say why, they didn't realize the other one had called. You're not picking up on your line." She wasn't yelling, her voice was soft, tired.

"How does Ross know to try me at your home number?" Bobby asked, missing the point, which left Lucy standing there blinking.

"Why are they calling looking for you? Why aren't you picking up your phone? I just thought…" She gulped for a breath of air. "I just thought something must be wrong, them calling for you, you not picking up…" Her voice kind of trailed off at the end. He watched her place her hand on her forehead, she did that when she was very upset and fighting her feelings.

He stood, frozen, no idea what to do. She wasn't yelling, she wasn't throwing things around, she wasn't lacing her words with deadly sarcasm, she wasn't walking off – she was standing in front of him, kind of close to him, shaking. If she had done any of those other things, he could have gotten angry back at her, he could've yelled back at her, he could have shoved things around as well, he could have hit her with a nasty retort and stomped off. But as it was, he stood there, having absolutely no clue what to do.

"I left my phone at my desk." Bobby offered. He thought back to the end of his shift, how frustrated he had been not being able to get the guy in interview to talk. He had almost resorted to the use of excessive force in the middle of an interrogation. Eames had quelled that with a quiet look, so he had slammed out of the room instead. The suspect had requested a lawyer, so the interrogation was done. And, since his shift was done as well, he had just kept walking clear out of the squadroom.

"Did they reach you?" Lucy asked, throwing Bobby off balance, her question unexpected.

"No." He admitted.

"Should you call in?" Lucy looked at him, slowly taking her hand away from her forehead, looking at him. "Should you call in?" She repeated the question, her voice a little stronger, but still not shouting.

"I should've called you." He said, still not knowing what to do.

"Yeah, probably." She said, and she looked away. He could see her, quietly shifting gears, silently trying to put her feelings aside, he thought that maybe she was diligently trying to guard her heart a bit. And he realized he didn't want that, he didn't want her to guard her heart from him. "You should probably call in." She said, her voice very quiet again.

"Don't…" He said, his voice a little hoarse - _don't guard your heart_, he wanted to say, but he didn't.

"Don't what?"She asked.

"I just…" He stepped forward and took her into his arms so swiftly he practically picked her up off her feet.

"Don't…" It was Lucy who said the word this time, she was crying, softly.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He murmured into her hair, he closed his eyes and took a slight sideways step.

"Yeah." She wriggled out of his arms. "You're sorry. You're drunk." She said, looking at him. And he thought here it was, she was either going to yell at him for being drunk or yell at him for not calling or she would just walk away, or maybe all three. But, she did not do any of those things, and that confused him. She stood in front of him looking at him, studying him.

"Lucy..." He wanted to say something, and he had no idea what to say. She cut him off with her soft words.

"You know I'm in love with you, right?" She asked, and he kind of shook his head, completely surprised. She asked him her question as if he didn't know, as if he had lost track of it somehow. He was speechless, she never did what he expected her to do, she never did what people normally did, which left him not knowing how to react. He knew she loved him, he didn't understand it, he didn't understand how she loved him. He knew because she showed him, because she told him, because she wasn't yelling at him, because she wasn't walking away from him. But that didn't make it any easier, because he kind of thought that it was just that she hadn't walked away _yet_.

"I should check in." He mumbled, and she was still looking at him as he was the one who walked away, even if it was just walking into the kitchen.

* * *

**_Author's Note_**: I guess I shouldn't have watched those back-to-back season 7 episodes the other night. People don't change directions quickly. Next up, "meet the family". Thanks for reading, and thanks for reviewing (I love to know that you are reading). 


	10. First time you meet the family

**First time meeting family**

* * *

Bobby was driving out to Lucy's sister's house for dinner, with Lucy in the passenger seat. They were riding along in a comfortable silence. Bobby could tell that Lucy was tired, she was sitting still, her head fully back against the head rest. Bobby knew that she had been working a lot lately. Lucy had somehow become Detective Olivia Benson's _go to_ psychologist, and this week alone, Lucy had been called three different nights in the middle of the night, two of which Lucy actually met Benson at the ER. 

Bobby was worried on two levels. First, and probably more basically, he was worried about Lucy working too much and not getting enough rest. Lucy's doctors consistently said that it was important for her to get enough sleep and try to minimize stress, or her migraines would likely increase in frequency. Second, and more deeply, Bobby was worried about the nature of her work. The cases within SVU were extremely difficult, not necessarily difficult to solve, just to process emotionally. The turnover rate among detectives in the SVU was fairly high, and was high for good reason. Benson and Stabler seemed to be somewhat of an exception in terms of duration in the unit. Bobby was concerned for Lucy about the possibility of on-going exposure to such violent, unsettling, sex based crimes.

Bobby smiled as Lucy reached out and placed her hand softly on his leg. He took one of his hands off the steering wheel to place it over top of her hand. He glanced at her, and could see her looking out the window, watching houses pass them by. They were almost to her sister's place, just one more turn and four more houses.

This felt like kind of like a first time in terms of going for dinner at Lucy's sister Laura's house, with Laura, her brother-n-law Bruce, and nephew Jake. Bobby had met them all quite often over the duration of knowing Lucy, but this was the first time they were getting together since Bobby and Lucy had become more intimately involved. Bobby wondered how that was going to play out. He knew that even Bruce was acting a bit different, at least it felt that way. Bobby and Bruce had a mutual like of jazz music, and had made the time to get together to try out a few clubs in the city. They had a great time. But Bobby knew it was one thing for Bruce to accept him as a friend of Lucy's, but it was quite another to accept him as a boyfriend. Laura, Lucy's sister, had made it clear early on that she found Bobby a little quirky and off-putting, and had never really changed her opinion in that regard. Bobby felt that he had a nice relationship with Jake, Lucy's nephew. Jake played basketball with his high school team, and Bobby had been to a few games. Bobby had a lot of respect for the kid, he was smart, polite, honest, and a good ball player.

"I think this is going to be great." Lucy said, a bit of a cheerleader tone in her voice, like she sensed Bobby's trepidations.

"It will be fine." Bobby parked the car, coming around to get her door. He reached into the back seat to grab the dessert Lucy had prepared. It was kind of a tradition that Laura would do the cooking and Lucy would do the baking. Bobby turned with the Tupperware container that held an incredibly decadent fudgey chocolate cake and almost crashed into Lucy. She leaned forward over the container and kissed him. She touched his face very softly, he noticed she often touched him like that, kind of like she needed the contact, as if it reassured her somehow.

"I'm glad you're here with me." She said, with an emphasis on the word _with_. He nodded, and he held the cake in one hand and with the other, he held her hand (and he was not one to hold hands).

"Lucy." Bruce answered the door, kissing his sister-n-law on the cheek. "Bobby." Bruce said, "Let me take that." Bruce took the cake from Bobby. "Laura is in the kitchen, dinner is in about an hour." Bruce offered over his shoulder as he walked toward the kitchen to set the cake down. "Jake is in the den watching the game." Bobby watched Lucy follow Bruce toward the kitchen to say hello to her sister, then he went to see what game Jake was watching in the den. He could tell by the beer on the table that Bruce had been watching as well.

"Can I get you something, a beer?" Bruce asked, reappearing.

"No, thanks." Bobby replied, he was driving so he wasn't drinking. "So who's up?" Bobby asked about the score.

"Hey, so Lucy and I are going upstairs, I want to show her those fabrics I picked out for the master bedroom." Laura stood in the doorway and gave Bobby a small acknowledging hello-type smile, but she was really talking to Bruce.

"Yeah, Ok." Bruce was back to watching the game, so Bobby kind of followed along with Bruce and Jake to watch the game as well. Bobby smiled thoughtfully to himself thinking about life in suburbia. Randomly thinking, had Bruce really called this a _den_? But what made him smile even more was the thought of Lucy looking at fabric samples with her sister.

After dinner, as Bobby was contemplating having a second piece of cake, he was realizing that the evening was not as awkward as it could have been. He and Bruce had made the time to look at some jazz and play some records, actual vinyl records. They didn't really share much direct conversation, but their silence was companionable and Bobby felt that Bruce was likely OK with Bobby's involvement with Lucy. Laura was predictably distant and a bit apprehensive, but she was not openly bitchy, which was a step up from what Bobby had expected. However, Jake was unusually quiet. Therefore, Bobby found himself wanting to spend a little bit more time with Jake. So, Bobby turned down the second piece of cake and made his way out front to find Jake playing basketball in the driveway (which was another thing about suburbia that made Bobby smile).

"Hey, detective." Jake said, dribbling a few times before catching the ball in his hand.

"Your dad, he says you have a few colleges interested in you." Bobby offered.

"Yeah." Jake replied, trying to keep his tone neutral, down playing his interest in the prospect of playing college ball. Like any normal teenager, Jake was playing it close for fear of failure.

"Yeah." Bobby looked at Jake, thinking there was something on the teenager's mind. If all had been right, Jake would've been more talkative during the game, more interactive at dinner, and he wouldn't have interrupted his dribbling and shooting to stand and study Bobby.

"So, you're in love with my Aunt Lucy." Jake finally spoke his mind.

"Yeah, yeah I'm in love with your Aunt Lucy." Bobby replied, relieved that Jake was getting to it. Though among Laura, Bruce, and Jake, Bobby kind of figured it would be Laura or Bruce to hit him with that statement.

"She seems happy, you know. She's always smiling, laughing." Jake said.

Bobby realized he didn't know. He didn't know how Lucy was when he wasn't around, he only knew how she was with him. As with most people, the telling things were the things that people often times didn't say directly. So, Bobby found himself thinking more about what Jake _wasn't _saying, than what he had said. So for Jake to say she seemed happy somehow meant that she didn't seem happy before.

"Mom says Beth and I are always all over each other, but we don't have anything on you and Lucy." Jake added, dribbled twice and made a shot well within the three point zone. Bobby watched Jake retrieve the ball, thinking about what he had just said. Did that somehow mean that she wasn't openly affectionate before? Bobby was surprised by this, he thought she wore her heart on her sleeve, he could usually tell how she was feeling, just as she could usually tell how he was feeling. Bobby had been in Lucy's life long enough to have actually been around her and her family, around her and her best friend Annie, and even around her and Emil. He tried to think about how she might have been in those combinations of people, but he realized that mostly all of the clear images were of he and Lucy alone. As if he didn't really commit the other moments into his memory.

"We're all over each other?" Bobby repeated a little skeptically.

"You know, not all physical or whatever, just maybe in the way you look at each other." Jake was again standing in front of Bobby, studying him. "Aunt Lucy, she seems to love you." Jake offered, somehow conveying that Lucy didn't love Skoda, or at least she had loved him differently. Bobby thought about that for while. He knew that Lucy did love Emil Skoda, and that him thinking otherwise was just selfish. But he hadn't really thought much about how how she had loved Skoda, or thought about the differences in how she might love him. She had this funny way of placing her hand on Bobby's chest, of feeling his heart beat. He realized that he had never seen her do that with anyone else. Bobby realized the difference might be in how he loved her in return. "Are you going to marry her?" Jake asked. Bobby paused, thinking. Now it was his turn to study Jake.

"I need to get my house in order." Bobby replied, not directly answering the question, but knowing he needed to get his life into a better place before he thought about foisting it onto Lucy permanently.

"Yeah, I get that." Jake said, and again he dribbled a few times and made an amazing shot. Bobby wondered if he did, he wondered if at 17 you really understood what it meant to get your house in order. It occurred to him that was why a lot of people married in their 20's, an age before you even really begin to think life through, an age before many of your experiences and mistakes become so colossal you become used to keeping them private.

"We're getting ready to go." Bobby offered.

"Yeah, later." Jake continued to play, and Bobby thought that was a sign that Jake had said his peace.

"Yeah, later." Bobby threw Jake's words back at him. As Bobby walked back into the house, he again thought about Jake's question, was he going to marry her? Bobby hadn't been able to look that far into the future in a long, long time. Truth was, in part he realized that he felt kind of like Jake. Jake had played it close in terms of the possibility of playing college ball. Bobby was playing it close in terms of the possibility of marrying Lucy, for fear of his own failure.

* * *

**Author's Note**: I love how Bobby interacts with kids on the show, he is so direct and honest, and he seems to take them at their word much more so than he seems to believe in what the "grown-ups" have to say... (thanks to AllieHalliwell for this idea!) 


	11. First time you made her mad

_**The first time **__**she got mad enough to yell at you**_

* * *

_Damn it Bobby Goren_… 

Bobby could hear Lucy. She was mad, but she didn't raise her voice. He felt so stupid as to have done something to make her so mad.

"Sometimes I just don't understand what you're thinking. You've been coasting for months…" She had her hand on his head, kind of holding him still. He was laying on his back on the street, a little disoriented. "And then you just kind of walk out in front of a car."

Bobby wanted to explain that wasn't how it happened. He didn't just walk out in front of a car; he was breaking up a fight. But he couldn't seem to say anything, he felt like he didn't have air in his lungs. He was in so much pain, he wanted to simply close his eyes.

"Sometimes I just can't believe you, you need to get it together Bobby, you need to get your life together." Her voice was imploring him, begging him to get his life together.

Bobby knew she was right. The past few days had felt awful, he had been coasting. He had gotten incredibly drunk the night before, shown up at her place unannounced, and the only thing he could think of was kissing her, feeling her skin on his skin, and the only thing that stopped him was that he couldn't muster the physical coordination.

But, that wasn't quite the truth. The real thing that stopped him was that she was engaged to Emil Skoda and she wasn't his to have. So, he had been dragging around for what felt like forever, and for that reason and whole lot of other reasons was not really checked into his life. So, when he had gone with Logan to question John Kowalski, a potential witness connected to the suicide of Charles London, and he had ended up breaking up a fight between Kowalski and some body guard, he hadn't really been paying full attention to where he was in relation to on coming traffic. So, he had been thrown backward and literally been hit by a truck.

He wanted to explain himself to Lucy, he wanted to tell her he loved her, he wanted so much to make things right, but he couldn't, the pain in his chest was so severe, he couldn't seem to say anything.

But wait, that's not right, she wasn't even there when that happened.

* * *

_Damn it Bobby Goren_…. 

Bobby could hear Lucy. She was mad, but she didn't raise her voice. He felt so stupid as to have done something to make her so mad. Yet, at the time he did it, he knew it would make her mad, he just couldn't seem to stop himself.

"You shouldn't have interfered." She was glaring at him; her hands were actually on her hips. He knew that she was keeping her voice quiet, they were in the middle of the squad - not Major Case, but they were in the middle of the SVU squad room. He could feel Benson and Stabler surreptitiously looking in his direction. Benson's expression was one of concern, Stabler's was one of mild curiosity, maybe a bit of sympathy from man to man, for Bobby clearly was about to get an ear full.

"Lucy, I…" Bobby kept his voice soft as well, hoping to proffer and explanation in his own defense, but there was none. He had come in and stomped all over a case, stomped all over her professional life, because he was freaked out over her involvement in something so violent, even he was having a hard time stomaching the crime scene.

"You what?" She said, looking up at him.

"I just…" He tried again, and still could not find anything reasonable to say.

"You thought I couldn't handle it, you thought you had to step in. Actually you thought you had to step over me, or in front of me, or something…" Lucy took her hands of her hips, fisting them in front of her, kind of shaking them at him over frustration. "You just can't, you just can't do that. If you are worried about me you need to come to me, not do an end run around me." Bobby could see Lucy fighting the urge to reach out and shake him. She had done that before, when he really upset her and she didn't know how to communicate with him, she would reach out and literally try to shake some sense into him.

"I wasn't thinking." He admitted, kind of walking with her out of the middle of the squad room, toward a more sequestered corner. He could feel the other detective's eyes following them.

"I could've…" Lucy said, and her voice broke, and he could see tears in her eyes. He realized that it was hitting her full force, not necessarily what he had done, but the case, the details of the case were hitting her full force, and the fact that if he had given her Benson's message, or withheld Benson's message (as he had done) would have made absolutely no difference - those kids, that family would have still been massacred. The only difference would have been Lucy would have actually been at the scene, as opposed to finding out after the fact. He understood that he shouldn't have withheld the message, he understood that he could've handled it differently, but he didn't regret the fact that his interference had saved her from seeing that scene, the blood, those children, so brutally murdered. He never, ever wanted her to see that kind of violence first hand.

"You could've…" He repeated her words, wondering where her mind was.

"You shouldn't have intercepted that message, you should've picked a different way." She said, breathing in with a shallow ragged breath.

He reached out, touching her lightly, briefly on her face. Even though he couldn't see it, when he touched her he could feel her trembling.

"Do not shield me from my life. Do not shield me from my choices. Be with me, be there for me, but do not interfere in my life like that." He could hear her voice trembling, and he wanted to scoop her up into his arms.

"Ok." He said quietly. She looked up at him, sizing him up as if to gauge his response.

"I'm taking you at your word." She whispered, and jabbed him in the chest for emphasis. He could feel the pressure of her finger, the pain of her jab, in his chest, the pain in his chest.

But wait, that's not right, that happened years ago.

* * *

_Damn it Bobby Goren_… 

Bobby could hear Lucy. She was mad, she was actually yelling at him. She rarely ever yelled, about anything. He felt so stupid as to have done something to make her so mad.

They were at Megan Wheeler's wedding. When Wheeler had returned to Major Case, she had re-partnered with Logan, so everyone was at the wedding. It was great to see Alex, now a Captain in the force. And Logan, now a Sergeant, was there to walk his ex-partner down the aisle. Wheeler was still with Major Case, now a senior detective. It was a beautiful winter day, and everyone was smiling and happy, except Lucy, she was mad, and she was mad at him.

The bride and groom had left the reception, and the guests were starting to leave as well. Bobby was watching Lucy put on her coat, help their three daughters on with their coats. Bobby was taken, almost breathless, looking at his wife, his girls. Megan had invited all three girls to be flower girls, so they each wore a variation of the same light blue flower girl dress. Lucy had styled their hair, weaving white daisies into their dark curls.

All three girls were riveted, watching their Uncle Mike Logan juggle three votive sized candles. His oldest, the 7 year old, had his brown eyes. She had asked her Uncle Mike if he could light the candles and then juggle them. The middle one, 4 years old, had laughed and told her older sister that was silly, the candles would not stay on fire flying through the air. Even at age 4, Lucy said the middle one had Bobby's questioning, analytic mind. The two year old was clapping, and trying to grab the candles as Mike tossed them gently from hand to hand. Lucy was kind of catching each girl in turn, helping them on with their coats. It was perfect. Most everyone he loved here in one place.

He breathed in, and his breath caught in his chest. He felt a little numb. He closed his eyes, just for a moment, and suddenly he hit the floor. He had such pain in his chest, he couldn't breathe.

His mind was jumping around. He thought about the pain in his chest, about breaking his ribs so many years ago. He thought about the pain in his chest, about that time Lucy had poked him so hard that she had left a bruise on his chest. He thought about the pain in his chest, he thought about now, he couldn't breathe.

He could hear Alex saying something about a heart attack. He could see Mike Logan scooping up his girls, trying to take them into the next room, saying something about more cake so they wouldn't see. Then he could hear Lucy, her voice seemed loud, she was next to him, her hands on his face, on his chest.

"Damn it Bobby Goren, don't you dare…" Lucy sounded so mad, or maybe she sounded so frightened, or maybe it was both. She was yelling at him, trying to get him to come around, yelling at him, "I love you, Bobby, don't you dare…" He could hear her voice, and she never finished her sentence, but he knew what she was saying. He could hear sirens, within what felt like minutes he could hear sirens.

He was thinking, but wait that's not right - _I__ have a __family, __I have__ friends, __I have a good life_.

"Bobby, look at me, we need you, don't you dare leave us." He could see the EMTs coming in, and Lucy was still kind of yelling at him. He thought it was strange, all the years they had been together, she had never yelled at him, never raised her voice at him quite like this. "Oh my god, don't you dare…" Lucy said, placing her head on her hands, on him.

Bobby was in the hospital, in the ER, he could hear the doctors saying he was lucky. Lucy was holding his hand, touching his head, telling him the girls were with Mike, he had taken them home, everyone was fine, he was going to be fine.

"That's the first time." He said, and she looked at him quizzically, as if he wasn't making any sense. "That's the first time you have yelled at me like that." His voice was thick, he was tired. But, he was absolutely certain she had never before yelled at him quite the way she had yelled at him when she was telling him not to leave.

"Don't ever make me yell at you like that again." She whispered, her eyes wet with tears. He reached up to touch her face, to pull at one of her curls. She caught his hand in hers. "Don't you dare, Bobby Goren, don't you dare ever make me yell at you like that again."

* * *

**Author's Note**: I'm out of order in my "idea list" (thank you "k" for this idea), but I wrote this one a few days ago, so I thought I would go ahead a post it. I hope it makes sense, kind of a different story sequence style. As always, I love to read your reviews. Thanks :) 


	12. First time you received unwanted advice

_**First time you received unwanted advice**_  
Point of view: Bobby

* * *

Never in his wildest dreams did Bobby Goren ever think he would be sitting at a bar sharing a scotch with Emil Skoda. As much as Bobby hated to admit it, they had someone they loved in common. 

Lucy had a history of seizures and migraines, and some of her tests had come back inconclusive. She was in the hospital for some more tests and observation. She had spiked a fever that morning, which complicated things a bit further. The doctors kept saying they had ruled out most of the major serious stuff, so it had really thrown Bobby for a loop to find out she had been admitted for 48 hours. He had visited her, and after leaving the hospital, he had walked down the block and across the street to grab a drink before heading home. He was surprised to find Emil Skoda at the same bar.

"Skoda." Bobby said. He had thought about leaving, but impulsively had decided to stay. He could tell Skoda was a few scotches ahead of him. Bobby sat down next to him and they drank in an almost companionable silence for a while. "She's going to be Ok." Bobby said.

"I wish you hadn't phrased that as a question." Skoda responded, referring to the unintentional upward lilt in Bobby's tone that turned what Bobby meant to be a statement into kind of an apprehensive question. "But yeah, she's going to be Ok. I need that, you know, for her to be Ok." Skoda's deep voice was raw, honest.

"So do I." Bobby agreed. Lucy had mentioned that Emil had stopped by, and Bobby had been mildly irritated about how it came to be that Emil even knew that Lucy was in the hospital. As if Lucy had read his mind, she told him that Emil had somehow gotten the information through the DAs office. Bobby realized that Ross knew why he had called in, and somehow the information had made its way around.

"So how often has she been getting them?" Skoda asked as he indicated to the bartender that he would like his check.

"It's been a while." Bobby admitted, thinking carefully, trying to remember the last time Lucy had a migraine.

"So, what's bothering her?" Skoda asked. Bobby swallowed the last of his first drink and ordered another.

"What?" Bobby asked, not really understanding the relevance of Skoda's question, thinking it was a bit personal. But then again, Skoda was obviously a bit drunk.

"She gets migraines when something is bothering her. She's not the best at expressing when she is upset about something, she kind of internalizes her feelings. I've always thought that relates to the frequency of her migraines." Skoda said, and for a moment, Bobby thought he sounded like a shrink analyzing a case. And in part, Skoda was a shrink analyzing a case. However Lucy was far more than a case to both Skoda and Bobby. So, Bobby took exception to hearing a personal insight about why Lucy might get migraines, especially an insight that hadn't yet occurred to him.

"Nothing." Bobby replied, and he wondered if that was the truth. Bobby did know, however, that _nothing_ was as much truth as he was willing to share with Skoda.

"Hmmm…" Skoda said, lifting his wallet out of his pocket. "She has a fever, maybe it is related to the whatever virus she may have and the stress the virus is putting on her system." Bobby watched Skoda pay for his tab. For a moment, they looked at each other, sizing each other up. And, for a moment Bobby thought Skoda was going to say something else. Bobby realized that if Skoda revealed some other personal insight about Lucy, he thought that he was going to have a hard time refraining from irrationally punching the guy in the face. Bobby was under a lot of stress, and Skoda's earlier observation had set him even further on edge. In the end, Skoda did not say anything further, he simply gave Bobby a brief nod and left the bar.

Bobby thought about paying his tab and going home to grab a few hours of sleep. The doctors had said Lucy would likely sleep through the night. Her sister Laura had been there when he had left and had encouraged him to get a bit of rest, maybe a shower, so he would look a bit more together in the morning. It was Lucy's sister's way of letting him know he looked terrible.

Bobby looked at the ice in his glass, thinking about what Skoda had said. He thought about Lucy's job, he thought about the stress of her consulting with SVU. He sighed, drumming his fingers on the bar, watching the ice clink and shift in his empty glass. He thought about his life, about the stress his life must place on her life. When the bartender came over, he found himself needing one more. He downed the third drink neatly in two swallows and then paid his tab.

Skoda had proffered some unsolicited insight, it felt kind of like unwanted advice. In as much as Bobby resented the source, the observation had merit. Lucy really didn't overtly get upset over much, and she had to be putting her feelings somewhere. Bobby realized that she was most likely not as rock solid as she often seemed. So, instead of heading home, Bobby realized that he needed to get back to the hospital. He didn't care that he looked terrible. He felt terrible, so he figured he might as well look the part. When Bobby returned to Lucy's room, he slipped out of his coat and shoes and slid into her tiny hospital bed with her. As she stayed asleep, he gently pulled her into his arms.

* * *

**_Author's Note_**: _pfchristine_ and _k_ offered the idea of Skoda. Same as he was on L&O, I have Skoda on re-occurring status in my fictions :) Those of you familiar with "Parallel" should recognize the opening. As always, thanks for your support. I love reading your reviews and seeing you think about what you are reading. Thx. 


	13. First time you realize she needs you

_**First time **__**you realize she needs you like you need her**_  
Point of view: Lucy, first person  
…picks up where the prior chapter left off.

* * *

As I started to wake up, I felt disoriented. I could feel Bobby wrapped around me like a boa constrictor. He kind of did that with me as we slept. No matter what position we were in when we fell asleep, when I woke up, he was usually wrapped tightly around me, having gathered me into his arms at some point during the night.

I opened my eyes and remembered I was in the hospital. I didn't remember Bobby climbing into bed with me. In fact, I remembered him saying he was going to head home for a few hours and come back in the morning. My sister Laura had stayed with me until I had drifted off to sleep. I lay there for a moment, letting my eyes adjust to the light. I was sore, and slightly sweaty from the heat emanating from a very soundly asleep Bobby.

It defied physics that both of us had been asleep in such a tiny little bed. As soon as I felt awake enough, I quietly slipped the railing down and slid out of bed. I stood for a moment, my socked feet on the cool hospital floor. I looked at the clock, and realized that the fall sun would be hitting the horizon in about an hour. I stretched my back and pushed my hair out of my face.

I hated the hospital, I hated the smells, the sounds, the feel. Yesterday morning when Bobby had called my doctor and rushed me over, I had a fever, which felt like it was completely gone. But it also had left me sweaty and sore, so a hot shower seemed like the perfect solution. Luckily I was in a private room with one of those tiny bathrooms outfitted with a shower. Laura had brought a change of clothes and an assortment of those tiny shampoos and such that she always smuggled away from whatever hotel she had visited recently.

I looked at Bobby, still sound asleep in the bed. I could tell he had not gone home. He was wearing the same clothes as he'd had on the night before. He was frowning in his sleep, and I could tell that even deep asleep something was troubling him. I had to resist the urge to kiss him softly and touch his face.

I stripped out of my hospital gown and set my socks aside while the water in the shower heated up. When I stepped in, I was pleasantly surprised that there was actually a bit of water pressure. I soaped my hair and rinsed it twice, then slathered it with some kind of herbal smelling conditioner. It felt nice to feel clean and be surrounded by smells not native to the hospital. I was standing there with my eyes closed, letting the water soothe the muscles in my neck and in my back, when the shower curtain was ripped open like some scene in the movie _Psycho_.

"What are you doing?" Bobby was standing there, and he actually looked like he could be in the movie _Psycho_. His hair was standing up, he was unshaven, and rumpled, and out of focus. He did not exactly wake from a deep sleep easily or clear headed.

"Showering." I stated the obvious, looking at him, looking at me. The bathroom was tiny, so the water was spraying off me and misting onto him.

"What?" He asked again, as if he could not compute what I had said, and was unable to comprehend the fact that I was standing in the shower, water running over my naked body.

"I'm showering, and now I'm shivering because you're letting all the warm air out of the shower." I replied, and he shut the curtain, but he didn't leave the tiny bathroom. I could see his large shadow silhouetted by the light. I leaned my head back to rinse the conditioner from my hair.

"Why are you showering, why aren't you in bed?" He asked, I could tell he was still half asleep.

"You were in the bed." I replied, turning off the water, reaching out and grabbing the towels. I placed one around my hair, and used the other to dry off.

"I'm not in the bed anymore." He replied, still very grumpy. I opened the shower curtain.

"I can see that." I was standing in front of him, looking up at him. "I like that you were in the bed." I smiled. I could feel him looking at me, studying me. "I feel better." I answered the question he was about to ask. "Much better actually. No fever." I continued, and kind of pushed past him back out of the bathroom. I could feel him trail along behind me. I reached into the bag and pulled out a clean nightgown and bathrobe (god love my sister Laura for thinking of everything). Bobby watched me wriggle into my clean things. I toweled my hair off a bit, and then ran my fingers through the damp strands which were springing into ringlets.

"Is something bothering you?" Bobby asked. He was now sitting on the bed, watching me. I turned to face him, not understanding his question. I was thinking about yesterday, I was thinking about what some of the tests had revealed. So, something was actually on my mind, but nothing was really bothering me.

"Why?" I asked, slightly evading his question. I wasn't quite ready to talk with anyone about the test results. I had one more procedure scheduled for first thing this morning, and then I would sit down with Bobby and talk with him. I had already decided, no matter the results, I would talk with him, but I just wanted a bit more information first.

"You haven't had a migraine in a long time. Is something bothering you?" He rephrased and repeated his question. I stopped what I was doing, his question sounded familiar, like a question someone else would ask me. I turned to look at Bobby, squinting at him, sizing him up. Bobby wasn't picking up on the vibe that I had something on my mind, he sounded like someone else.

"Why would you ask that?" I asked, I could tell I was frustrating him by not answering. He sounded like Emil, and I couldn't imagine why.

"I don't know, you know, your migraines, they could be connected to stress. So, if something was bothering you…" He offered, and I could tell he was starting to think better of asking the question.

"Did you see Emil yesterday?" I asked, and Bobby's expression went from kind of a frustrated thoughtfulness to completely vacant. And, I knew that he had somehow gotten into a conversation with Emil. Yesterday Emil had stopped by the hospital to visit me. It was an awkward visit. Emil was concerned for me, which was reasonable. We had shared a lot together. But there was a silence between us. It was the fall. At one point we were to have been married in the fall. I thought to myself, as I looked at Emil that he was still full of regret. I had felt guilty, because I was happy, very happy with Bobby.

"Why?" Bobby asked, it was his turn to be evasive. I walked over to be closer to Bobby. I moved to stand kind of in between his legs as he sat on the bed. We were almost eye to eye.

"Emil thought that I wasn't very good at expressing my feelings and that I would let them build up inside of me, and that would lead to my having migraines." I sighed, and wondered exactly how much I should say. "That may have been the case when I was with him, but that is not the case with you." I placed my hands on Bobby's legs. "I don't know how to explain it, but I do not have to constantly analyze how I am feeling when I am with you, I don't have to struggle with how to articulate my feelings, you just kind of seem to know them. You kind of sense them, you know. You understand me, you can read me." I breathed in, and paused, looking at Bobby to see if he understood what I was saying.

"So, nothing is bothering you?" Bobby was looking at my hair. He loved to touch my hair, kind of the way I loved to place my hand over his heart. I thought that the migraine was probably related to something the test results had revealed, it wasn't related to something that was bothering me. So, I hedged a bit.

"You're bothering me for asking me. Do you _feel_ like something is bothering me?" I emphasized the word feel.

"I just was thinking, that maybe…" He started to say.

"Oh Bobby Goren, do you _feel_ like something has been bothering me? Don't think about it." I placed my hand on his heart.

"No." He said, looking at me.

"You need to trust that, you need to trust how you feel, and not listen to that noise that all your thinking sometimes produces." I kissed him, and looked at him. "And, you need to shower." I suggested, and I watched him smile, that wonderful smile that came from deep down within him.

He stood, slipping forward off the bed. He reached out to run his fingers through my curls.

"I need you, you know. You make me happy." I said and looked up at him, and much to my surprise he kind of leaned over and embraced me so tightly that he picked me up off my feet. He buried his face into my neck, and I could hear him whisper the words – _I need you too_.

In a somewhat alarming way, I felt almost as if he had not realized it before, that I needed him. I needed to be with someone that I didn't have to work so damn hard to be with. That he was the perfect fit for me. That he got me, without me having to explain myself, he simply got me. "But you still need that shower." I whispered, and he laughed.

"Good morning Lucy." Dr. Hill walked into the room, and Bobby set me down on my feet. "Oh, I see you showered. You must be feeling better."

"Yeah, I mean yes I'm feeling better." I replied, realizing that I needed a moment with Bobby, that I wanted him to stay for this test and hear the results from the doctor.

"That's good to hear. I'll be back in a few minutes. I just want to make sure everything is set up for the procedure." Dr. Hill offered and stepped back out of the room.

"What procedure?" Bobby's brow was creased with concern.

"There were some test results that came in last night, from the blood work. So, they wanted to follow-up with something." I swallowed, my heart tight in my chest, my face felt a little flushed. Bobby could see all of these things in me, and I could see the blood draining from his face out of worry. "I'm two weeks late." I stated.

"For what?" He asked.

"I'm two weeks late." I said again, not really understanding his question.

"For what? Did you miss something? A test, did you miss a follow-up appointment." His breath was shallow.

"They would like to do an ultrasound, I'm two weeks late." I couldn't think of another way to say it, I didn't understand why he wasn't getting it. He was standing, his hands flexed in front of him, his eyes were closed, it was clear to me he was thinking, reaching, trying to understand what I was saying. "I'm pregnant, I'm two weeks late." It finally hit me, that I hadn't actually said I was pregnant. "They think the migraine was triggered by the hormone fluctuations." I offered. He was still standing, his eyes closed, his breath coming in shallow breaths. "Bobby…" I said his name.

"Two weeks late." He opened his eyes and looked at me.

"If we're lucky, we will be able to see the heartbeat on the ultrasound. It is early, but at six weeks there is a chance." I offered.

"But you're two weeks late." He said again, not understanding the six week part.

"Two weeks late is six weeks pregnant, about." I offered, still waiting for a bit more of a reaction.

"You're pregnant." He said, and I could see it in his eyes, recognition dawning. I was nodding, and I could see a bit of a smile on his face.

"Alright Lucy, if you're ready." Dr. Hill walked back into the room.

"This is, um, Bobby Goren. He's the father, I would like for him to come." I said to Dr. Hill, who was nodding in that "of course" kind of way.

When I turned to follow Dr. Hill down the hall to the ultrasound room, I realized that Bobby hadn't moved. I reached back and took his hand in mind. He squeezed my fingers tightly. Bobby did not say a word, during the walk down the hall, while I got up on the table, while Dr. Hill prepped the ultrasound. He also did not let go of my hand.

"OK, let's see what we can see." Dr. Hill said. My eyes were on the screen, Bobby's eyes were on me. "Actually, yes, here." Dr. Hill mumbled, kind of leaning forward also looking at the screen. "We're in luck, here is the fetus." I could see Dr. Hill taking measurements on the screen. "Just over 5mm." Dr. Hill mumbled. "And are you ready, here is the heart beat." Dr. Hill smiled, and turned the volume on and the room was filled with the swish-swish-swish of the fetal heart beat. Then, as if he were completely unaware of the rather immodest position I was in on the table, Bobby was leaning over me to get closer to the screen, his left hand reaching out as if to touch the image.

"That's a good sign, right?" I asked, thinking about the heart beat, trying to look around Bobby at Dr. Hill.

"That is an excellent sign." Dr. Hill replied, watching Bobby practically lying over top of me to look at the screen. "I can print that image for you." Dr. Hill said to Bobby, who still had not said a word since he had said – _you're pregnant_.

"We're pregnant." Bobby whispered, and I realized as he leaned over top of me, I could feel his heart racing in his chest. He shook his head as if to clear his thoughts, and then he turned and kissed me, and I could feel him smiling as he kissed me.

* * *

_**Author's Note**_: So, this is a twofer. Pfchristine asked for "when he comes to realize that she needs him deeply as well". And many of you are "baby crazy" :). I vividly remember the swish-swish-swish in my own life. 


	14. First time doubt hits you

_**First time doubt hits you like a ton of bricks**_  
Point of view: Bobby first, then a switch to Lucy  
…picks up in the time line where the prior chapter left off

* * *

Bobby Goren sat in the conference room in Major Case amazed that he actually had a free moment for lunch. He had dashed out to his favorite sandwich place and come back to surf the internet on his lap top while he ate. He was reading as much as he could get his eyes on about fetal development. Even after 2 different doctors had said as much, he spent nearly every free moment in the first few days reading about the medicines they had administered to Lucy in the hospital and possible contraindications for use during pregnancy. Luckily, they had wanted to determine what was going on so they had been waiting for the blood work before beginning a course of treatment. When her blood work came back indicating she was pregnant, they changed their approach. 

Lucy did not want to tell anyone about her pregnancy, not even her friend Annie or her sister Laura, until after the sonogram she had scheduled for 12 weeks. Bobby had thought that would be easy. He was a private person by nature. But he was amazed how difficult it was to keep this secret. Every lull in every conversation he experienced when he was with his partner Alex Eames, his brain practically burned to spill that he was having a baby (well, Lucy was having a baby).

Just the thought of it made his chest tight. He hadn't quite figured out if he was scared to death or happy, or maybe it was that he was scared to death that he was happy. So, as with most things, he decided the best course of action was to read up on it. So, he had read more about "what to expect when you're expecting" than Lucy.

"Jesus, Goren, what are you – eating for two?" Logan walked into the conference room, and Bobby closed the internet site he was reading about pregnancy. Logan was on the opposite side of the screen, so there was no way he could see what Bobby had been reading.

"What?" Bobby asked, and realized the Logan was referring to the rather large lunch he was eating.

"Better be careful, you're going to look like two of you if you eat like that every day." Logan sat down and started eating some of Bobby's chips. Bobby scowled, looking down at himself, then he scowled looking at Logan eating his food. Bobby reached out and slid the back of chips out of Logan's reach.

"Did you need something?" Bobby asked.

"No," Logan smiled, reaching back out for one last chip. "Just going out to grab some lunch, was going to see if you needed anything, but clearly you don't." Again, Logan made a remark about the amount of food Bobby was eating. Bobby watched Logan walk back out of the conference room and he resumed surfing the internet, reading about pregnancy.

So far Lucy hadn't really shown any outward signs she was pregnant. She was not nauseous, she was not tired, she did not have cravings or aversions. Of course, she was not very far along, but Bobby kept thinking that something should be different, really different. But nothing was, except of course of the differences he felt inside of himself. He was about to try to search around on the internet again when Logan walked back in.

"Hey, there is this thing for Stabler tonight. You going?" Logan said, and Bobby closed his lap top, thinking that lunch was over.

"Yeah." Bobby stood, lap top under his arm, cleaning up his lunch stuff with his free hand. Lucy had somehow introduced even more people into his world. Her work with SVU brought Olivia Benson over all the time, and Bobby recognized that it was more than work, that Lucy and Olivia were becoming friends. So Stabler sometimes came by with Benson, which left Bobby and Stabler enjoying many an awkward silence while Lucy and Olivia chatted with each other in the kitchen. So yes, he was going to Stabler's thing tonight.

* * *

**Switch to Lucy's Point of View**

* * *

I was sitting in the kitchen eyeballing a glass of milk. I knew I should drink it. I hadn't had enough to eat today. I wasn't feeling ill exactly, but I hadn't exactly been hungry either. I had actually lost about 2 pounds, and knew that I needed to try to eat better. I was saved by the bell when the phone started ringing. It was late, just after 11:00pm, so my stomach kind of twisted thinking that late night phone calls usually meant something was wrong. 

"Hello." I said.

"Hey Lucy, this is Olivia."

"Oh, hi Olivia." I replied, thinking that Olivia was off tonight. She was at that thing for Stabler. Bobby was there, I was thinking he would probably be walking through the door any minute. I thought that maybe Olivia had been called in for a case and she was calling me for something. That would be the perfect excuse to not have to try and drink that glass of milk.

"Hey." Olivia said, pausing, but she had already said that, so I couldn't figure out where the conversation was going. "I'm pulling up in front of your place with Goren, in like 5." She offered.

"Ok, is everything Ok?" I replied.

"Just too much to drink, I'm carpooling everyone home." Olivia offered, she didn't seem upset, so I didn't say anything further. But my stomach did kind of turn, and after I hung up the phone I dumped the milk out into the sink and put the glass in the dishwasher.

I made my way to the front of the house and opened the door as Olivia's SUV pulled to a halt at the curb. I waved, and Olivia returned the wave. I watched Bobby climb somewhat slowly out of the passenger seat. He really did look quite drunk. I thought about what he had said to me on the phone earlier, about Logan's remark about eating for two. It looked like Bobby had been drinking for two as well. As Bobby walked up to the house, I watched Olivia pull away.

Bobby had a tell, well he had several actually, about when he was drunk. It was something about his hair, as short as it was, it seemed to get bigger, more out of order, the more he had to drink. It was related to the way he kind of combed his fingers through it. Tonight, his hair looked pretty big and out of order. He walked up to the door and sat down hard on the step, placing his head in his hands. His breathing was big, slow, uncoordinated.

"I'm not going to make it." He confessed, and I barely understood him. I sat down next to him on the step, shivering slightly in the cool fall air. My heart stopped as I listened to him. Someone who didn't know him well might have thought he meant that he wasn't going to make it into the house, or onto the couch, or into bed. He was far too drunk to manage the short walk. But I knew him better. I wasn't going to put words into his mouth, so at first I didn't say anything.

"It's cold, winter will be here soon." I breathed in the cool night air, but it didn't make it very far into my lungs. "Can we make it inside?" I asked, pretending I didn't know what he had meant.

"I'm not going to make it." He repeated, lifting his head out of his hands, I could hear him more clearly, and he kind of looked up at the night, at the stars. He scratched his fingers through his hair, across his face. He was still looking at the stars. I watched his chest rise and fall, deeply, unevenly. "I don't know anything about this, I'm not going to make it as a dad." He offered, and there it was, what I thought he had meant the first time he had said the words.

I reached out and placed my hand on his leg, scooting closer to him on the step. I looked up at the stars as well. He had apparently spent the past few hours getting drunk with Elliot Stabler, whose marriage, whose family was often on the rocks. I thought of his poignantly miserable childhood, and how his mother, his family weighed so heavily on his soul. I breathed in deeply and sat with him a while.

"We're going to make it." I whispered, leaning my head against his shoulder. I reached out and took his arm to place it around me, so I could get closer to him. He complied, and heavily pulled me into his arms.

"I want this." He mumbled. "I want you…" He said to me, "and you…" and I thought he was talking to the baby. "But I think I don't know enough about this… " He mumbled. So, here was this man, with this reputation on the job for being so cocky, so certain in himself, in his opinions, in his views, that some people found him off-putting, difficult to work with. At work, he relied on reason. He could figure out other people, dissect their motivations, reason through all of the possible scenarios, visualize all of the twists and turns of events. In contrast, in his personal life, he was adrift. To survive, he had long ago figured out to _not _apply reason. He had looked for reasons for his mother's behavior, for Frank's, for his father's leaving, for Brady's sudden appearance in his life. And there was no reason to be had.

"We're going to make it, and you are going to be incredible." I kissed him softly, and made a lame attempt at smoothing his hair. He moved into me, into my touch, which was a good sign. It would have broken my heart if he had moved away. "I love you Bobby Goren. We love you." I smiled, including the baby. I reached out and touched his heart with my hand, thinking that someday, his child would reach out their little hand and do the same.

* * *

Author's note: Thanks for your reviews and support. Next up "First vacation". 


	15. First time you go on vacation

**The first time you go on vacation**  
Point of view: Lucy, first person  
...picks up in the time line where the prior chapter left off

* * *

The day after Bobby came home drunk after that thing for Elliot Stabler, I booked and paid for a 4 night stay for the both of us in a one bedroom suite at a swank resort in the Bahamas. We were to leave the same day as my 12 week sonogram. I figured either way I would want to get away. Bobby was hesitant about the whole vacation thing, I knew that he didn't have much money put away, his mother's illness had tapped him out and he was just starting to financially recover. I was honest when I told him I realized I was being completely selfish by needing a vacation and needing him to come with me. In the end he acquiesced. 

The sonogram had revealed a healthy fetus of about 12 weeks. The blood work screen had been within normal parameters. So the next day as I sat at an amazing bar, by an amazing pool, at an amazingly posh resort in the Bahamas, I breathed a slight sigh of relief. I was wearing my bathing suit with a sarong wrapped around my hips thinking about what non-alcoholic frozen drink I might like to order.

"Can I buy you a drink?" An unfamiliar male voice inquired. I turned to see a man, maybe a bit older than me, conservatively dressed in a polo shirt and shorts offering to buy someone a drink. I looked around for a moment, thinking that perhaps he was talking to someone else. I slowly realized he was talking to me. I smiled, and was about to respond, when a very familiar male voice said from behind me.

"She's pregnant, and she's with me." Bobby growled.

"No thank you." I said, a bit more nicely, and the man returned my smile and walked away. I turned to face Bobby.

"So, the first person you tell that we're having a baby is some stranger in a bar?" I asked, smiling, thinking that we had agreed to tell people after vacation.

"What?" Bobby asked, as if he couldn't remember what he had said. "That guy was hitting on you."

"Yes, and you told him I was pregnant and I was with you."

"Well you are, and you shouldn't be drinking, you're pregnant." Bobby offered, still very disgruntled, not yet seeing the humor in what he had said.

"Yes, I am pregnant, and I am with you." I kissed him on his cheek, thinking now pretty much the entire bar knew I was pregnant, though you couldn't tell by looking at me. "I think I will have a banana smoothie." I asked the bartender, who smiled and I thought laughed a bit as he took my order. He had watched the whole scene go down, and he saw the humor in what Bobby had said to scare off my would-be suitor.

"Do you think you might burn in that?"Bobby was looking at my swimsuit. I could tell he was still preoccupied by the guy who had offered to buy me a drink. I looked down at the deep v of my tankini top, it was backless, but strangely still managed to have a lot of support, which was a good thing because though most of my shape hadn't changed, my breasts felt huge. I realized that Bobby was probably looking at my chest.

"I have on SPF45, all over everywhere." I offered, ignoring what was obviously distracting him. The bartender returned with my smoothie and a cup ice of water with lemon and mint, he handed the water to Bobby. "Maybe we should go to the beach." I watched Bobby drink half the glass of water. He was wearing a light blue t-shirt and some long brown swim trunks. He looked quite handsome, and he had a bit of a tan from yesterday afternoon. I signed for the drinks and stood.

We made our way down to the beach to the chairs we had sat in the previous afternoon. I noticed Bobby carrying my canvas bag of stuff, so when I sat I pulled out my book. I noticed he didn't bring anything to read. I moved my legs up on the chair and watched Bobby from behind my large pitch black sun glasses. He was sitting at the foot of my chair watching people playing in the sand, in the warm smooth ocean. I realized with a smile that for now, anyway, his reading days were done. He had moved onto the observation stage of learning about babies and children and families. He was openly studying various moms, dads, children, babies, whoever was playing on the beach.

He managed to sit on the sidelines for almost a full 20 minutes. Then, much to my amazement, he changed tactics, and moved into the fray. I had stopped even pretending to read my book and was now watching Bobby. Though my sunglasses were so dark, I could have been sound asleep, because no one could see my eyes as I leaned back against the recline of the beach chair.

He started by interviewing a dad who was standing in the shallows watching his two boys, probably 7 and 9, swim along collecting sea glass from the sand underneath the water. Bobby kind of sidled up next to the guy, and entered things by admiring the piece of sea glass one of the boys proffered to his dad. Then, it kind of moved on from there. After about an hour, Bobby had managed to interview 2 dads, 1 mom, and what I thought to be an au pair. I was reminded how, when he had his mind in it, he could seem so natural talking with just about anyone. Though, I was thankful that he had left his portfolio in New York. Part of me wondered how he resisted the urge to jot down a few notes.

I watched him make his way back to my chair, sitting on the foot of the chair, kind of between my feet. I sat forward, straddling behind him and rested my head on his back, feeling the warm soft cotton of his t-shirt against my cheek.

"So, did you detect any crimes?" I asked, wrapping my arms around his broad chest. I expected a pithy response, maybe something about the 5 year old girl stomping on her little sister's sand castle and blaming it on their dad. He didn't respond for a moment, so I lay against him, feeling the rhythmic rise and fall of his breathing.

"Yeah, it's a crime I didn't meet you years ago." He replied, and I could feel my heart go still in my chest. Before I could respond, he stood, picking me up onto his back piggy back style and crossed the sand the short distance to the warm smooth ocean. He unceremoniously dropped me in. When I came up for air, he scooped me up and kissed me. "I think I like vacation." He smiled, and I wrapped my arms around him and kissed him in return.

* * *

**Author's Note**: Thx to JanxAngel for "first vacation". I hope it was a nice one :) 


	16. First time you share the news

_**First time you share the news**_  
Point of view: Bobby  
…picks up in same time line where the prior chapter left off.

* * *

Bobby Goren's day went from good, to weird, to worse – all in the course of 8 hours. 

Bobby sat at his desk across from Eames. For the past several weeks, in what felt like every other second, he had been itching to share the news about the baby with Eames. Now that the time had come that he could actually say something, he had no idea what to say. So, he sat across from Eames fidgeting, trying to find the right words. Eames sat across from him trying to ignore his fidgeting.

"Spill it." Eames finally looked at Bobby, pinning him down with her stare. He stopped wriggling around in his desk chair, which was on the verge of buckling under his large frame.

"I'm having a baby." Bobby replied, and Eames looked at him, blinking, her eyes traveling his torso, to his middle, back up to his face. He was back to fidgeting, kind of running his hand across his hair, across his face. He looked happy, but he also looked a little scared.

"You're having a baby." Eames repeated, her voice soft, a slight smile on her face. Bobby was nodding, emphatically, like he almost couldn't believe it himself. "Well, Logan did mention recently that you've been eating for two." Eames sharky comment caused Bobby to cease fidgeting and look down at himself.

"Lucy's having a baby." Bobby replied, glowering slightly at Eames. "My baby." Bobby supplied, a bit irrationally, for it was quite clear to Eames whose baby Lucy was having.

"Congratulations Bobby, I think that's great." Eames replied, in all seriousness. Bobby was relieved that Eames seemed happy. His partner's opinion was incredibly important to him. And, he realized that he was a bit uncertain how she would feel. Things with the fire fighter had not exactly gone the distance, they had lasted most of the summer but Eames had ended things in the fall. He knew that she was now involved with some ER doctor, and seemed quite happy with him. But he also knew that the doctor was divorced with two kids of his own, so sooner or later that always seemed to complicate matters a bit.

"Thanks. It is great." Bobby said, standing, not able to sit any longer. Eames automatically stood as well. "Are you hungry? I was going to grab something to eat."

"No, no thanks." Eames smiled, wondering who was going to gain more weight during the pregnancy, Bobby or Lucy.

* * *

"Goren." Ross barked from the door of his office. Bobby was on his way to grab his stuff off his desk. It was after the end of his shift and Eames had already left for the day. Bobby veered off to walk toward Ross. "The Chief of Ds wants to see you." Ross said. "Now would be good." Bobby nodded. "Oh, and congrats again on you and Lucy." Ross offered, kind of as an obligatory afterthought. After telling Eames (and after lunch), Bobby had gone in to tell the Captain. News spread fast, so he wanted to be the one to tell Ross. 

Bobby left his stuff at his desk and headed for the elevator. The past summer had brought a lot of changes, including a new Chief. With the new Chief, came new connections, new commanding officers, new funding, and new opportunities. But perhaps more importantly for Bobby, with the new Chief came a new slate or at least a cleaner one anyway.

"Chief." Bobby knocked lightly even though the Chief's assistant had announced his arrival.

"Goren, excellent. Sit." The Chief was standing, telling Bobby to sit. Bobby remained standing, waiting to sit at the same time as the Chief. So, both men sat down together.

"Captain Ross said that you wanted to see me." Bobby offered, not leaving any silence for an awkward exchange of personal information.

"Right, the task force on organized crime and drug trafficking, I want you on it." The Chief offered. "I've squared things with Ross. I have funding in place for 6 months, then, depending on the success, we will see." Bobby sat stunned for a moment.

"I would be honored." Bobby finally found the appropriate thing to say.

"Good. There is a meeting the day after tomorrow. I'll send you the details. You're going to need to hit the ground running." The Chief offered. Bobby was standing, nodding.

"Thank you sir." Bobby turned and was reaching for the door.

"Goren." The Chief said.

"Yes sir." Bobby turned.

"Congrats on the baby." The Chief offered, and Bobby kind of shook his head in disbelief. The news had taken less than 4 hours to travel about 4 floors in the building.

"Thank you sir." Bobby replied.

"And Goren, don't let this cause problems between you and Logan." The Chief called out as Bobby walked through the door.

Bobby was in the elevator leaning back against the wall, his eyes closed in disbelief. He was running down what had just happened, an opportunity for some kind of command position as part of a task force initiative, a congrats from the Chief of Ds about the baby, and what was that last remark…? Bobby smiled, realizing that even the Chief of Ds had succumbed to the rumor mill that Mike Logan was at one time involved with Lucy.

* * *

"I shouldn't be too long." Bobby kissed Lucy on the cheek. He had met her for dinner to tell her about his conversation with the Chief. She had smiled widely, and softly touched his hand. He could feel that she had every confidence in him that he would make excellent contributions to the task force, which was important, because Bobby was beginning to feel the enormity of the opportunity weighing on his chest. Bobby had mentioned that he wanted to tell Eames, and that he wanted to catch her before their shift started in the morning. Eames was not exactly a morning person, so he figured he would stop by her place tonight. "Don't feel like you need to wait up, you and the baby need rest." Bobby added, thinking that all of the books had said that Lucy should get as much sleep as possible. 

"Bobby." Just after Lucy's cab pulled away from the curb, an all too familiar voice brought his attention around. His brother Frank was standing kind of off to the side, his hands in his pockets. He looked clean, as in washed, but he also appeared to be straight.

"What do you want?" Bobby asked, he took in a deep and heavy breath, knowing that running into Frank was not accidental. "Were you following me?" Bobby asked, thinking that Frank was waiting for him to leave the restaurant and must have followed him from 1PP.

"You're having a baby?" Frank asked, not answering either of Bobby's questions. Bobby placed his hands into his pockets to keep himself from reaching out and shaking and yelling at Frank. His brother really did bring out the worst in him.

"You stay away from her, you stay away from me, you stay away from my family." Bobby's voice was low, menacing. Bobby forced himself to take a step backward from Frank. Unfortunately, Frank took a step forward. "Stay away." Bobby said again, trying his best not to physically reach out and shove Frank backward.

"This is for you, from Donny." Frank pulled a letter out of his pocket. Bobby looked at the letter, not wanting to take it, wanting to put this out of his life. But he reached out anyway.

"How did you get this?" Bobby asked, looking at the crumpled piece of mail.

"He sent it to his mom." Frank offered. "I'm clean." Frank said.

"I don't care." Bobby replied, "you stay away from my family." Bobby reiterated, turning and walking away, not acknowledging that Frank was his family.

* * *

**Author's Note**: Thanks to InfinityStar! She suggested the first time you share the news. And, these three scenes kind of hit me in the head. I think I have a story arc forming inside my series of "first times" :) 


	17. First time you spend a week apart

**First time you spend time apart**  
Point of view: Lucy, first person  
...picks up in time frame where last chapter left off

* * *

"Hello." I was sound asleep when the phone started ringing, but I figured it was Bobby so I struggled across the bed to pick it up. He was in Chicago for a week on a task force related assignment. They had requested him specifically. He of course had not wanted to go. So, Eames was lending some of her time, working on the task force on the New York side while Bobby was in Chicago. I knew that the timing was terrible. Bobby was way off kilter. He had run into his brother Frank, or more like Frank had run into him. Frank had passed along a letter from Donny, but Bobby refused to open it. He didn't know what would be inside, he claimed he didn't want to know. It was as if he didn't want to open all of that again. So, for the time being I wasn't forcing the issue. When Bobby had mentioned he had to travel to Chicago, he had wanted to use the pregnancy as an excuse not to go. However it was early enough in my pregnancy that it wasn't really an excuse. Plus, it was only for a week. Still though, I was worried about him. 

"Were you asleep?" Bobby asked, without even saying hello. I could tell he was frustrated that he woke me up.

"Yeah." I looked around for the clock, 9:32pm, I had only been asleep for like 20 minutes.

"It's like 9:30, right?" Bobby asked, as if he had lost track of time.

"Yeah, I've just been kind of tired." I replied, feeling like it was about 2:00 in the morning.

"But that's not right, you should've been tired a few weeks ago." Bobby replied, referring to the millions of books he had read on pregnancy that suggested expecting mothers were tired in the first trimester and somehow magically energized in the second trimester.

"I don't think I'm following the book." I replied, also feeling a bit ill.

"Maybe it's something else." He said, "are you sick?"

"Yeah, I'm sick. But not sick with a cold or the flu. I am pregnant and sick. I saw the doctor." I offered. "We don't all follow the book." I smiled, thinking that must blow Bobby's mind. He educated himself on what to expect, and I wasn't dutifully following along.

"I'm coming home." He said.

"What?"

"I want to come home." He repeated.

"Is the work not going well?" I asked.

"We're making progress." Bobby replied. "I miss you." He said.

"I could fly out." I offered. Chicago was not far, there were flights like every hour.

"I want to come home." He repeated again.

"Bobby." I was worried about him. "I'll fly out." I murmured, my body was betraying me, I was still feeling sleepy.

"You're falling asleep." He accused.

"Kind of. Tomorrow, if you still feel like you want to come home, then I will fly out." I said. "I love you."

"I love you too." And he hung up the phone.

* * *

"Hello." I answered the phone, I was asleep on the couch. I had early appointments but had cleared my afternoon thinking to get some things done at home. Instead, I lay down and promptly fell asleep. 

"Were you asleep?" It was Bobby, and he sounded puzzled, and busy. There was a lot of background noise. "Isn't it like 3:00pm there?" He asked, as if he had again somehow lost track of time.

"Yeah, I just thought I'd sit down for a second, and I fell asleep." I offered, sitting up on the couch, kind of smoothing my tangled hair with my free hand.

"Are you OK?" He asked.

"Yeah, I feel good. Just tired." I admitted. "Are you OK?" I asked, worried.

"I can't come home." He said, his voice just a whisper.

"I can fly out." I offered.

"No, something major just jumped. Kind of busy." He said, but he sounded sad.

"Call me tonight?" I asked.

"Yeah, I love you." He said so softly I could barely hear him.

"I love you too." I replied, and he hung up the phone.

* * *

"Hello." I answered my cell phone, I was asleep at Annie's house. We were supposed to be watching a movie, but I had fallen asleep. I could see a note in front of me from Annie saying she was going out to pick up some Chinese food. It was about 10:00pm. 

"Were you asleep?" Bobby asked, "Aren't you at Annie's?" He asked.

"Yeah, we're watching movies." I offered.

"Asleep?" He asked, I could almost hear a smile in his voice. His tone reassured me, he sounded a bit better.

"Well, I was asleep, Annie stepped out for Chinese food. I'm kind of hungry." I offered.

"You're asleep and hungry." Bobby replied.

"Yeah. That about sums it up." I sat up on the couch.

"At least you're hungry." Bobby observed. I hadn't really been hungry.

"Do you want me to fly out?" I asked.

"No, things are really moving, I don't have much time." He replied.

"I reviewed some of the case notes today, it was weird seeing your handwriting and not seeing you." I offered.

"What?" He asked.

"I was in Huang's office, with Olivia. I reviewed some of the case notes." I re-explained, not knowing which part didn't make sense. His reply was a rather long silence.

"Isn't Skoda consulting with Huang?" Bobby asked.

"Yes, but I haven't seen him." I offered, realizing what he was thinking about during his silence. Just when I thought he sounded better, I had just unintentionally turned things.

"Make sure Annie gives you a ride home." Bobby offered, trying to neutralize his tone.

"Mike's giving me a ride home. He called and made the offer. Did you talk with him earlier today? I think he's still at work." I replied, again I was met with a strange silence.

"You're seeing Logan?" He asked.

"I think you planted the idea in his head, that I was at Annie's and you didn't want me riding home alone. So, he called and offered." I replied, again silence. I could almost feel him wanting to come home. He felt that everyone was seeing me except him.

"I love you. I can fly out tomorrow." I offered.

"No, it's OK. I love you too. Talk with you tomorrow." He said, and hung up.

* * *

"Hello." I answered my phone, I had just returned to bed from the bathroom, so I knew it was about 2:30 in the morning. I didn't know what I was thinking eating Chinese food at 10:00pm at night. I felt miserable. Mike Logan actually had to pull the car over, and I dashed into some coffee place and got sick in their bathroom. 

"Hey." It was Bobby, this time he didn't ask me if I was asleep, which was strange, because it was after 2:00 in the morning and for a change I was awake.

"Are you OK?" I asked, I was laying on my back in the bed, my hand over my rounded belly.

"Yeah. Did Logan ride you home?" He asked, and I listened to his voice, it sounded thick, slow, as if he'd been asleep and called me.

"Were you asleep?" I asked him.

"No." He replied. "Not yet." He admitted, and I thought about his reply, about how he sounded, about how he was breathing. He was drunk, I could hear it in his voice, in his breathing. My heart ached for him. He wasn't doing well away from home, away from me, away from his safety zone at work, away from Eames, and Logan, and maybe even Ross. I knew that he was getting the work done, but he couldn't do that 24/7, so when he was at the hotel he had far too much time alone.

"You should get some sleep." I replied.

"You don't feel like talking to me?" He asked, an edge in his voice.

"Let me fly out tomorrow." I replied.

"I'm coming home the day after tomorrow. I can do the rest from home. But I'll need to fly out for a week, maybe less, next month."

"I miss you. I could still fly out tomorrow and we could fly home together." I offered. I was met with a long silence. "I'll book it in the morning, I'll see you when I get there."

"Yeah." He finally replied, his voice hoarse, soft, still thick sounding. "Yeah, fly out." I knew that I'd caught him in a moment with his judgment a bit impaired, but I didn't care. It was easy to fly out first thing in the morning, easy to rearrange my day.

"I love you." I said.

"Good night, I love you." He replied.

* * *

The next day at lunch time I was standing in a hotel lobby in Chicago. I had actually checked into a different hotel than Bobby, a nicer one right in the down town area. I had texted him where I would be, and he had replied that he was free for lunch. So, I sat down in the lobby, kind of slouching low in one of the overstuffed chairs. I closed my eyes listening to that Michael Buble song – _Lost_. My sleepy brain was kind of listening to the lyrics … _'Cause when you feel like you're done; And the darkness has won; Babe, you're not lost_. 

"Lucy." A very familiar male voice brought my eyes back open. "Were you asleep?" Bobby asked, looking down at me, concern etched across his features, as if something must be horribly wrong for me to fall asleep in a hotel lobby.

"Um, I don't think so." I replied, listening to the music, realizing the same song was playing … _Things have seem to changed; There's one thing that's still the same; In my heart you have remained_. I realized my eyes had only been closed for a few seconds, tops. "No, no I wasn't asleep." I moved my hands behind me and pushed myself to standing. Even though I hadn't gained much weight, my center of balance was beginning to feel a bit off. Bobby stood in front of me, arms outstretched as if to hug me, but he was kind of frozen looking at me.

"You're pregnant." He said, and I laughed out loud. I was pregnant when he left, I was still pregnant. I couldn't imagine why he was making that remark. Slowly I followed his gaze, looking down at myself. I realized that this was this first time he had seen me in maternity clothes. It had happened practically over night. Last week I was wearing regular clothes, a size bigger than my own, but regular none the less, and the other day I was at work and realized I was horribly uncomfortable. So, I had broken out some of the maternity purchases I had been slowly collecting. Today I was wearing maternity jeans, a dark wash, very modern looking, but they had that comfortable cotton waist band. But Bobby couldn't see the waist of my jeans, so he was looking at the black empire waist turtle necked sweater, which kind of hugged my full chest and swung loosely around my growing middle. So, to the outside world, for the first time, I looked pregnant (as opposed to kind of chubby around the middle).

"Yeah, I'm pregnant." I smiled, placing my hands on my hard rounded middle. He was still standing in front of me, looking frozen, arms open, kind of taking me in. I realized that his expression had changed a bit, he looked sad, as if he had missed something important, as if he had left last week and I looked the same, and now I looked completely different. Ever since he found out I was pregnant, he would come home and I could tell he would expect me to look all round and huge like women at 8 or 9 months, and I would look the same, and he would look surprised. So, the fact that he missed the first time I wore maternity wear actually seemed to bother him a bit.

"I'm the same size." I stepped forward and took his hands in mine and placed his hands on my middle. "Just the shirt is different, you didn't miss anything." I looked up at him. "It's only been a few days." He stood looking down at me, unconvinced. I looked up at him, touching his unshaven face, thinking that he looked like he needed a haircut. I thought that he looked different, like he had aged in the week we had been apart. So, I couldn't dismiss out of hand that he felt something similar when he looked at me. He finally leaned forward and scooped me up into his arms, burying his face in my neck, in my hair.

"Next month, if they need me back in Chicago, maybe you could come for a few days." He mumbled.

"I think I could arrange that." I replied, loving the feel of his arms around me, how he crushed me against him with such need that he practically squished the air out of me.

* * *

**Author's Note**: LenniGeorge inspired this idea, with her - "first separation, either one being out of town for some reason". Thanks! I hope you are still reading and enjoying. 


	18. First time you felt the baby move

**First time you felt the baby move**  
Point of view: Lucy, first person  
...same basic time line as prior chapter

* * *

"Dr. Jones, this is Anthony from security." I was in my office, at my desk, my office assistant Helen had gone home for the day. I was just thinking about doing the same when I saw the call from the front desk of my building show on my caller ID. 

"Oh, hi Anthony." I was surprised that the head of security was calling. At this time of day, Richard was normally at the front desk of the building.

"I'm sorry to bother you Dr. Jones, but we have someone here in the lobby that is trying to get up to see you." Anthony said. I wasn't expecting any patients, and if a patient was coming by unannounced, they would know how to reach me in advance so I could make arrangements with security. "He says that he is your detective friend's brother." Anthony supplied.

"What?" I asked, as if I hadn't heard correctly. But, I knew that I had understood Anthony. "I'm sorry Anthony, I mean, have you checked his identification?"

"Sure enough. Frank Goren." Anthony supplied.

"Thank you. I'll be right down." I said, not wanting Anthony to send Frank up. I was alone in my office.

"I'll stick around, Dr. Jones, if that's OK." Anthony offered.

"That sounds fine, thank you Anthony." I replied, hanging up and sitting at my desk for a second. I looked at my phone, thinking about what to do. I gave into my instinct and picked up the phone to call Bobby. I rang directly into his voice mail, I let him know I was OK, I left the time of my call, and let him know that Frank was in my building lobby with building security and I was going down to see what was going on. Then, I hung up.

I pushed myself up and out of my office chair. It was becoming increasingly odd feeling to walk around. I was almost through my second trimester and I had gained about 20 pounds, all in my front, so I was starting to feel like I was walking funny (and I was).

The elevator doors opened, and I walked through the secured elevator bay doors out into the main lobby. I could see Frank Goren leaning against the desk, flanked by Anthony and Richard. I smiled at Anthony.

"Dr. Jones I presume." Frank said, smiling at me. He was jittery, but his clothes were clean. I was trying to gauge if he was high. He did not appear to be completely strung out, but I sensed he was not completely sober either. I could see why Anthony wanted to stick around. I watched Anthony and Richard move to be a polite distance away, but still close enough to jump in at a moment's notice.

"What can I do for you Frank?" I asked, not bothering to introduce myself more formally.

"Going to be a mommy soon." He looked at my rounded middle, which brought Anthony a step forward. I held out my hand that it was OK for a moment, so Anthony stopped to watch us carefully.

"What can I do for you Frank?" I asked again, thinking that he definitely was on something. He looked at me and didn't talk for a few minutes, a very long feeling few minutes, but I waited, looking at him. "Frank?" I asked.

"You're a step up." Frank said finally. "Or a step different anyway." He observed, and I didn't quite follow. "You look different than Bobby's partner, that one he was fucking." Frank said, and his words took me completely off guard. Anthony and Richard went to move forward, but I stilled them with my hand. Frank had not moved toward me, and I was waiting for him to get to what he wanted.

"Do you need something?" I asked, thinking that maybe he wanted to get clean again, I was hoping that maybe he was looking for a way to get clean.

"We're family right?" He said, looking at me, again looking at my rounded middle. "Uncle Frank." He kind of gestured to himself. I continued to look at him without responding. "Bobby said _stay away from my family_, but I am his family. That doesn't make sense right - for him to tell me to stay away from his family."

I continued to look at Frank. I was starting to think that maybe he hadn't come by for any reason. He had simply come by to see me, to size me up, to maybe upset me as a way of getting to Bobby. I wasn't going to give into that. I wasn't going to let him get a rise out of me. I thought about his suggestion that Bobby had been involved with Eames. I knew it was not the truth, but I also knew that Bobby would never, ever tolerate anyone talking about Eames like that, like she was some object to be fucked or fucked with. I was about to turn and go, and let Anthony and Richard escort him from the building.

"You think he's still fucking her?" Frank asked. "That partner of his." Frank repeated what he had said. "I think he is, fucking her that is." I continued to look at him, I breathed in softly. I could tell Frank was agitated that he was not getting a rise out of me.

Out of the corner of my eye I could see someone coming through the front door of the building. Bobby pushed by Anthony and Richard and grabbed Frank. Bobby slammed his brother up and into the air and back against the wall. Bobby had his forearm across Frank's windpipe. Anthony and Richard didn't move, it was as if Bobby had just done exactly what they had desperately been refraining from doing.

"I told you - stay away, stay away from her." Bobby ground out, crushing Frank.

"Bobby." I said his name, wanting him to let go of Frank before he crushed the air clean out of him.

"Stay away from her, from me." Bobby repeated, pushing harder on Frank.

"Anthony." I pleaded, hoping to get someone to move. Anthony did not move, neither did Richard. They obviously thought that Bobby was taking care of things. I took a step forward. "Bobby." I said his name again. "Please." I didn't realize it, but I had tears in my eyes, Bobby could hear them in my voice. I had never seen Bobby so openly violent, so full of such hatred. I had seen all of the signs within him, when he talked about Frank, but never had I seen it first hand. "Please." I said again, and I watched as Bobby slowly let Frank go. Finally, Anthony and Richard did move, they grabbed up Frank and started to carry him out of the building.

"He is, you know, fucking her." Frank offered, still trying to strike out at Bobby anyway he could. As they put Frank out onto the street, I could see Bobby's square government car out front, blue and red lights flashing, no sirens. I realized that he must have beat feet across the city when he received my message.

Bobby was breathing deeply, unevenly, almost snorting in his ragged effort to get air into his lungs. I realized I was shaking, and I reached up to wipe the tears off my cheeks with the back of my hand. I watched Anthony and Richard secure the front doors, locking anyone out who didn't have the pass card.

"Bobby." I said his name, softly. I reached out, placing my hands on his forearms, which were crossed tightly against his chest. I watched the violent rise and fall of his chest.

"What did he want?" Bobby looked at me, I could see the anger in his eyes.

"Nothing." I admitted. "At least he never got around to anything."

"Why did you come down?" He asked, looking at me, still desperately trying to get a hold of his anger.

"To see what he wanted." I replied, Bobby slowly moved his arms to his sides, but he was still breathing heavily. I thought that if I hadn't been standing there, Bobby probably would have been kicking or punching at a wall. He had so much anger inside of him, and Frank was the hair trigger to set it off.

"You shouldn't have come down." Bobby was looking at me, looking at the baby inside of me. "What was he saying?"

"I think he was just trying to get a reaction out of me." I replied, thinking about what Frank had said about Bobby and Alex Eames. I remembered that Bobby had said that Frank had said something similar right after the whole thing with Donny went down at Tates. Bobby had admitted that he had almost choked the life out of Frank that night as well. I was about to say something else when the baby kicked so hard, I actually gasped. I watched Bobby's expression instantly transform from anger to concern.

"What?" He looked at me and I slowly reached out for his hands, placing them on the lower left side of my belly. "Is that?" He said, and his eyes widened in amazement.

"Yeah. That's her." I smiled.

"A little late." Bobby surprised me by leaning over and giving our daughter a gentle reprimand. Everything he had read suggested around 20 weeks, maybe even 18 weeks, he should be able to feel her move. So he had been waiting what felt like an eternity for this moment. I thought it had something to do with the amount of adrenaline that had been coursing through my body moments ago. She had moved within me so strongly, I actually jumped.

I looked at Bobby looking at my belly waiting for another kick. I had stopped trembling on the outside, but I was still feeling jagged on the inside. Just a moment ago, Bobby was about to choke the air right out of his brother, and now he had his hands on his baby daughter and had seemingly let all of those dark feelings go. But I knew better, I recognized that Bobby had not let a single thing go, that he was an expert at shoving those feelings down into a deep place inside of him. I reached up and touched his face.

"I love you." I whispered. And in that moment, I thought that maybe those were important words that he needed to hear.

* * *

**Author's Note**: Thanks to BewitchedandBewildered for this idea. As always, thanks for writing to me with your reviews ;) 


	19. First time you share a guilty pleasure

**First time you realize you share a guilty pleasure**  
Point of view: Lucy, first person  
…similar time line as last chapter

* * *

"Ah, gah, hrumph…" I was reaching as best I could up into the cabinet where I kept the baking supplies. My big pregnant belly was in the way, so I had no reach. I was up on my toes, pressing as hard as I could, but my belly wouldn't give, and my reach wasn't long enough. Finally, I flattened back onto my feet and looked around the kitchen. I needed something to stand on, something so I could reach. I looked at the kitchen chairs, preferring maybe a footstool, but I didn't feel like going to the other room for the footstool, so I drug one of the chairs across the floor. 

I was about to get up onto the kitchen chair, when I realized that I had to go to the bathroom. I stood, thinking about putting it off for a moment, it would only take me a second to get to the blue bin of baking spices. I lifted up my leg as if to get up onto the chair, and realized that my bladder couldn't wait, that I had to go to the bathroom. Strangely, it felt odd to leave the kitchen with the chair in front of the cabinets. If Bobby caught me standing on the chair in my condition he would freak. But, he wasn't even home, he was working very late, and he had called to say he would be another hour. So, I headed off to the bathroom. While I was in the bathroom, I heard Bobby come through the front door. I could hear his footsteps head toward the kitchen.

"Hey." I waddled into the kitchen, looking at him standing, eyeballing the kitchen chair in front of the cabinet.

"Were you, um, uh, standing on this." He gestured at the offending chair with his hands, running his fingers across the wooden back.

"No." I replied, and he looked at me in that sideways way he had as if I were lying.

"Then why is the chair over here?" He asked, raising his eyebrows, questioning me.

"Um." I replied, not certain how to proceed. "I needed, to um…" I started to answer, kind of pointing to the cabinet.

"You needed to um, uh, what?" He asked, repeating my stammering sounds back at me.

"Reach something." I admitted.

"So, you were planning to stand on the chair." He accused, narrowing his eyes at me. Then he moved the chair back across the kitchen and tucked it under the table.

"Maybe I was." I allowed.

"What can I reach for you?" He asked.

"Nothing." I said, not wanting to admit to what I was up to. I watched Bobby open the cabinet.

"Let me see, what's in here." He said, looking way up high, at the shelf that was out of my reach. "You were reaching for a wine glass?" He asked, looking at me. "You were going to have a glass of wine?" He asked, trying not to look surprised.

"No." I said, and he looked through the cabinet.

"Well, you can reach the other shelves, why did you need the chair?" He asked, kind of scratching his head, not letting it go.

"I can't reach the other shelves." I admitted, looking down at my growing round middle. I walked across the kitchen and reached up to demonstrate. I could feel him smiling at me. But then, his expression turned serious, and he used his detective reasoning, and followed my arm up to the blue bin of baking spices, that was just out of my reach because my pregnant middle was in the way.

"Baking. Are you baking something?" He asked, retrieving the bin.

"No." I said, reaching into the spices, grabbing out the cinnamon.

"Then what are you doing?" He watched me walk to the kitchen drawer and retrieve a spoon.

"Eating." I admitted.

"It's like midnight." He said, pointing out that my eating at midnight was usually a bad idea, that the heartburn I had usually made me feel like puking.

"I've got to have this." I admitted.

"Cinnamon, on a spoon?" He asked, leaning back against the counter, smiling.

"Not exactly." I allowed, and reached into the refrigerator and retrieved what I was after.

"Oh I see." He smiled, and watched me open the container. He walked to the drawer and retrieved his own spoon.

"What're you doing?" I asked, suddenly feeling a bit protective of my craving. Bobby was practically matching me pound for pound in the weight gain department.

"Getting a spoon." He replied, and reached forward for the container. I handed it to him and watched him peel back the plastic seal. He reached forward again, and I handed him the cinnamon. He sprinkled it liberally on top, a thick brown dust, exactly how I would have done it. The he took his spoon and broke the perfect veneer and mixed it slightly. My mouth was watering just watching him. "For you." He said to me, offering me the first delicious spoonful of icy cold Kozy Shack rice pudding straight from the extra large container I had stashed in the fridge. I opened my mouth and closed my eyes as the wonderful vanilla and cinnamon hit my tongue.

"It's so good." I murmured, my mouth still full, such a guilty pleasure from childhood, eating rice pudding straight from the container while standing in front of the fridge. I watched Bobby take a large bite and close his eyes at well.

"So good." He said, licking his lips, and I could tell it was possibly a guilty pleasure of his as well, he had known exactly how to put the cinnamon on top, how to stir it ever so slightly, he had known not to bother with a bowl, or sitting at the table. He placed another spoonful in my mouth.

"I love it straight from the container." I mumbled, again my mouth was full. He leaned forward and kissed me, kissing a bit of the vanilla-goodness from my lips.

"I think I like it this way better." He smiled a bit wickedly, and I smiled. He really was a great kisser.

"Don't think that you're going to distract me from that pudding with your kissing me." I said, opening my mouth again like a bird. He took another spoonful.

"Oh I'll distract you with my kissing." He said, taunting me with the pudding on the spoon. He really looked amazing, leaning back against the counter, his smile so genuine, his hair kind of scruffy, a wicked glint in his soft intelligent eyes.

"Distract me." I smiled, and he set what he was holding aside and took me into his arms and kissed me. And, I realized we shared another guilty pleasure - making out in the kitchen, like we had the very first time he had ever kissed me. Except this time, he didn't have broken ribs to get in the way.

* * *

**Author's Note**: Pfchristine volunteered this idea. I have a confession, I also strangely know most all of the words to any Neil Diamond song… strange. (oh, and I also dearly love Kozy Shack rice pudding). 


	20. First time you go shopping for baby

**The first time you shop for baby**  
Point of view: Lucy first person, then switch to Bobby  
…same time line as prior chapter

* * *

I stood in the baby store watching Bobby try out gliders. I quickly realized that Bobby's large frame required a different glider, perhaps a more substantial one, than my smaller, non-pregnant frame. He was sitting happily in a large oak looking glider, with yellow checkered cushions. In his hand he held his dog-eared copy of _Baby Bargains_. He had been carrying that book around like it was his baby supply Bible since he had searched it out on the internet and ordered his own personal copy. 

"Is this the one?" I asked, smiling indulgently. He opened his eyes, looking at me. I didn't like the yellow checks, but cushions could easily be changed. The important thing was that he found something he was comfortable with. I wanted him to be comfortable in the baby's room, with the baby's things, with the baby.

"Yep." He stroked the arm rest with his free hand (the hand not holding the precious book). "This is the one." I watched him open the book and take a pen to write some notes in the margin. I assumed there was a page or maybe several pages dedicated to "comfy chairs" or some such thing.

"What's next?" I asked. Before coming to the store, he had meticulously made a list of things to purchase.

"Layette." He offered, which to me simply meant clothes and other similar stuff.

"I think we have that." I replied, looking into the cart. I watched him pull out a separate check list that he had made with layette items. I was starting to think that the internet was a dangerous resource. "Bobby." I smiled, gently taking the list from his fingers. "We have plenty of sleepers, blankets, towels, washcloths, and burp cloths. We even have diapers." I nodded, scanning his meticulous list, which had all the items in our cart he had even made a notation suggesting quantity. "In fact, I believe we have exceeded this list and the recommended number you have here." I showed him the list. He looked at the cart, and at me. I watched him reach in and pull out a tiny cotton footed sleeper, yellow with fluffy white sheep. The outfit looked very tiny in his large hands, against his large frame.

"What will she wear home?" He asked, which completely surprised me. Not many men really gave much thought to specifically what the baby will wear home. I mean, they probably had a general idea that the baby would be wearing something, but not which specific something. "I think maybe I like this one." He reached in and retrieved a white cotton footed sleeper with purple puppy dogs and a matching blanket and hat. All I could do was nod. I could feel unexpected tears in my eyes that he should be giving specific thought to what she would wear home. "Are you Ok?" He asked, still holding the white sleeper in his hands. I watched him rubbing his fingers across the soft cotton.

"Yes. More than Ok." I replied, getting my rampaging emotions in check. "We should order the glider, the crib, and the dresser thing and arrange for delivery." I mumbled. "And, we should probably get something to eat." I added, kind of changing the conversation.

"You're hungry?" He asked, and I nodded. I really couldn't each much at any one sitting, so I ate a little bit all across the day. It was working well for me, my weight gain was right on target. It was working a little too well for Bobby, for I noticed that his weight gain was kind of on target as mine. I never mentioned it, since Bobby was so tall that a few pounds didn't really seem to be here or there, but I knew that Mike Logan was ribbing him about it at work.

"We can check out and go across the street for a second lunch." He said, placing the sleeper back into the cart. He surprised me by reaching forward to tuck my hair behind my ear. "I love you." He said. "I love this." He furthered, and I smiled.

I looked at him, and I couldn't help but notice that he looked a bit sad at the same time. He was one of those people that struggled with the extremes. I often thought that Bobby's greatest accomplishment was to have an average day – nothing too grand, nothing too awful, just a day, like any other. I knew that he tended to rubber band around, that when he had a great day, he waited for an awful day to follow, and if the awful day didn't come he somehow managed to crash and create it. Over time, that pattern within him was changing, and he seemed to be increasingly less skeptical of letting happiness slip into his existence, but every now and then I could see it within him. He would close his eyes and feel so perfect, and the next day he would go out and sabotage it somehow.

"It's Ok, to be happy." I said, softly, looking at him, wondering what he was specifically thinking about.

"Yeah, it should be, right?" He said, reaching out to touch my pregnant middle. I nodded, and reached out to touch his face. "We should get going, get you something to eat before you fall over." He offered, and the moment slipped away, as did a bit of the sadness in his eyes.

* * *

Bobby sat alone in his car, thinking about his day, thinking about the feel of the tiny cotton sleeper, thinking about the feel of Lucy's large pregnant middle, thinking about the feel of sitting in the glider with his eyes closed imagining holding his daughter, just thinking about the feel of it all. 

Lucy was home asleep and he had been called into work for something that turned out to be relatively minor, but he had still had to leave the house. He should've been headed home, but he found himself parked next to a curb near his brother Frank's last known address.

He leaned his head forward and kind of dribbled it against the steering wheel. He closed his eyes, and he remembered the other day when he had almost pounded the life out of his brother in the middle of the lobby of Lucy's building, in front of Lucy and two security guards. He remembered the feel of Frank underneath his forearm, he remembered the feel of anger in his veins.

When he had walked into the building and had seen Frank taunting Lucy, it was as if his brain had stopped working. In fact, looking back, his brain had stopped working the moment he had listened to Lucy's voice mail. When he heard her message about going to the lobby to see what Frank wanted, Bobby literally yelled out the word NO before slamming his phone closed and putting the lights on the dash. He had made it across the city in minutes.

He breathed in and out, he felt dizzy. He realized he felt scared. It was one thing to let loose his temper when he was playing a part in the interrogation room, or interviewing a witness. In those cases, even if he had someone pressed against the wall, he felt that he still managed to maintain a fingernails grip on his senses, and usually, he had Eames. In the past year, he had completely lost his grip with Frank, with Brady, and almost with Declan Gage. He remembered how he felt when Lucy had said his name, how it felt to hear the tears in her voice. So he sat, tired of feeling.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the crumpled letter from his nephew Donny. He still had not opened the letter. He couldn't imagine what it would contain. He ran his hands across the surface of the envelope, across the barely legible handwriting that bore his name – _Bobby Goren_. He breathed in and out, and again, he felt dizzy.

Donny obviously knew that Bobby was looking for him. Bobby recognized that looking for his nephew was potentially putting Donny in jeopardy. If Bobby found Donny, then so could the state of New York, which would land Donny back in prison. The fact that Donny had contacted his mother and had bothered to try to send something to Bobby meant that Donny was probably doing Ok. So, perhaps the message inside was less important.

He surprised himself by ripping open the edge and reaching inside. He was retrieved a blank piece of paper wrapped around what looked to be an inspirational type card, the type found in church. The photograph on one side was a stone Celtic cross, on the other were a few simple words in a scrolly script font.

_May peace be with you._

At first, Bobby thought it was a peculiar thing to send. He read over the words a few more times, trying to think about why Donny would send such a thing. Donny did not know many of the details of Bobby's investigation into Tates, Donny did not know of Bobby's experiences, or the outcome of Bobby's getting himself locked up and sent to the psych ward. In the middle of everything, Donny had escaped and fled. So, maybe there was no thank you to be given, and perhaps there was no thank you to be had. Bobby read the words again and again. _May peace be with you_. Bobby struggled with that each and every day, a sense of peace. Maybe it was Donny's way of moving on. Bobby found it strange that he would open the letter at this time, in this place, parked outside Frank's building, wanting desperately to find a better balance in his own life.

Bobby placed the card in his wallet, and instead of going inside to shake the hell out of Frank, he started the car and drove home.

* * *

_**Author's Note**_: So many thanks to DeliriousDancer for "shopping for baby." Though, of course nothing is as simple as shopping for baby. 


	21. First time you say something

**First time you say something and would like to take it back**  
Point of view: Lucy, first person  
…same time line as prior chapter

* * *

I was dreaming. I knew I was dreaming but I couldn't seem to wake myself up. I was standing in the stairwell at the 2-7, Justin Kemp had his arm around me, his hand crushing my windpipe. I couldn't breathe, I was choking for air. I closed my eyes, feeling the strange cold metal of the gun against my temple, against my cheek. _Don't shoot_ I was thinking, _don't shoot_. I was dizzy, I had no air, my legs were weak, my cheeks were wet with my tears. In my dream I opened my eyes, I was watching Bobby, he had his gun drawn aimed at Kemp. _Don't shoot_, I was thinking, _don't shoot_. I didn't want Kemp to shoot me, I didn't want Bobby to shoot Kemp. I couldn't breathe. This time though the nightmare was different, I was pregnant in the dream, and I definitely wasn't pregnant when it happened. I was frantic, thinking about the baby, _don't shoot_, _God_, _please __don't shoot_. 

Someone was holding me, holding me in my sleep, like Kemp was holding me, I had to get away, he had to let me go. I was wriggling and fighting, and desperate to get away. "No, no, no, let me go." I was crying, increasingly frantic.

"Lucy." Someone was saying my name, holding me. "Lucy." I was coughing and gasping for air. "Lucy." It was Bobby, he was saying my name.

"No, no, let me go, let me go, don't touch me, let me go." I was starting to wake up, I needed to get away. "Don't touch me, let me go." I was thrashing wildly, and pushing, he was too strong, too strong for me, he wouldn't let me go. "Let me go, don't touch me, let me go." I was shouting and crying and struggling, and suddenly I was free. I was still kind of asleep. I fell onto the floor, hard, bruising my knees. I wasn't at the 2-7, I was in our bedroom at home, on the floor. I scrambled to get up, but I almost couldn't, I was off balance. In my dream I hadn't felt the weight of almost 8 months of pregnancy, but scrabbling around on my floor it was hard to get up, to get away.

"Lucy." Bobby was coming around the bed.

"Don't touch me, don't touch me." I was saying, still half asleep, holding my arms in front of me, scrambling backward across the floor away from him. "Please, don't shoot, don't touch me." I was crying, still trying desperately to get my bearings, part of my mind was still asleep dreaming about the stairwell at the 2-7, the other part was in my room, trying to get away.

"Lucy." Bobby was kneeling on the floor in front of me, reaching out for me, he was frightened. I was trying to wake up. My breathing was hard, shallow, my face covered in tears.

"Please, don't touch me." I mumbled, I was talking to Bobby, but my brain was on Kemp. Bobby looked so stricken, as if I had slapped him. Finally, Bobby stopped trying to come after me, he sat back onto the floor. I was waking up, my breathing deepening, becoming more even.

"Lucy." Bobby said my name again, his voice just a whisper. I closed my eyes, and wiped the tears from my face. My pajamas were soaked with sweat, but I was freezing and starting to tremble. I wanted to take a shower, to wash everything away.

"I'm sorry." I mumbled to myself, to Bobby. "I'm sorry." I kept my eyes closed. "I was dreaming, I'm sorry." I took in one long deep breath and held it, and slowly let it go. I realized that Bobby was probably sound asleep kind of wrapped around me. He liked to sleep like that, with me securely in his arms. And, when I started dreaming and fighting against Kemp, I was actually probably trying to get outside of Bobby's embrace. Bobby's instinct had been to hold me tighter, keep me safe, but that just made me fight harder.

"Dreaming." He looked at me, all of the color still gone from his face.

"It was nothing." I said, wanting to get into the shower, to wash it all away.

"Nothing." He repeated, still sitting on the floor in front of me.

"I just, I think, I um, I just would like to take a shower." I mumbled, trying to push myself to standing, which was quite awkward in my pregnant state, but I managed, and Bobby did not move to touch me.

He watched me walk across the bedroom toward the bathroom. I started the shower and stood, trembling, waiting for the water to get warm. I stripped out of my night clothes and stepped into the shower. I let the water run over me for a few minutes, just thinking about breathing. I placed my hands on my pregnant middle thinking about the panic I felt in my dream about keeping the baby safe.

I stayed in the shower until the hot water was running low. When I came back into the bedroom wrapped in a robe with a towel over my hair, Bobby was sitting on the edge of the bed, his hair ragged, his face still pale.

"Don't shoot, don't touch me, don't shoot." Bobby repeated my words. I had been yelling them in my sleep.

"It was um, a nightmare, about that day at the 2-7." I said. Bobby looked awful. "I'm sorry, I didn't, um…" I started to say something, but I didn't actually know what to say. "I didn't mean to scare you." I offered.

"It's not that." Bobby said, "It's that you were scared of me." He said, and I could see a sadness in his eyes.

"I, uh…" I started to reply, but my thoughts were still a bit jumbled, a bit disjointed.

"You were scared of me, you were scared of me that day, and you were scared of me just now." He said.

"I just, with the baby, I just want to be safe." I said, rubbing my eyes with the heels of my hands.

"You just want to be safe." He murmured as he watched me dress into clean pajamas. I squeezed as much water out of my hair as I could and set the towel aside. Then, I climbed back into bed with him, it was just after 4:00am. I wrapped my arms around him placing my head on his shoulder, soaking in his warmth. "Safe." He said, as part of a sigh, and I realized what I had said, and I realized what he was thinking and I immediately wanted to take it back. I could tell he was flipping it around in his head, thinking that if I wanted to be safe then I must not feel safe with him.

"Bobby, I want the baby to be safe, to be safe and have a happy life." I said, trying to explain, what every parent wants for their child. I could feel him breathe in deeply. I kind of lay down under the covers, pulling him with me. I snuggled up against him, the best I could with my pregnant middle in the way. I could see that there was no taking back what I had said, and that saying anything further wasn't helping. I could see his brain spinning, thinking that if I wanted to the baby to have a safe and happy life than somehow I must be doubting that she would, and that he was somehow putting that in jeopardy. His childhood had been anything but safe, anything but happy. "I love you." I said, reaching up, running my fingers across his stubbly jaw.

"I love you too." He murmured, and he pulled me a little closer into his arms. I was exhausted and I wanted to stay awake long enough to feel him relax, to feel his thoughts relax. But I drifted off to sleep, and I sensed he was still thinking, still letting my words ping pong and twist around in his head.

* * *

**Author's Note**: Pfchristine suggested "the first time you say something and would like to take it back." Thanks! After mulling several things around for a while (and actually bothering pfchristine), this is the one that gelled. Enjoy. 


	22. First gift

**First gift**  
Point of view: Bobby  
…same time line as prior chapter

* * *

Bobby walked through the house feeling a bit disoriented and incredibly groggy. He had worked late the night before, so Lucy had let him sleep. It was just after 10:00am. Bobby could not remember the last time he had slept so late. Even so, at 10:00am, he had only slept for about 6 hours. 

He could feel the pulsating beat of very loud music coming from behind the closed door of what was to be the baby's room. He almost knocked, but that seemed silly, so he simply pushed open the door. He was surprised to see Lucy dancing around with her best friend Annie to some alternative rock song. They were clearly picking out baby room colors. Lucy was favoring some kind of baby farm animal theme, there were splotches of various dark barn red test colors on the walls, there were cow print fabrics, and wall paper cut outs of barns and animals and ponies. Bobby liked it, he appreciated the bright bold colors.

"Hey Annie." Bobby smiled a little sheepishly at Lucy's best friend. Lucy had known Annie since something like kindergarten. Bobby could not imagine knowing anyone that long, having anyone in his life for that long. Annie kind of waved and smiled over the loud music. "What is this?" Bobby winced a bit.

"XM 54." Lucy kind of shouted, still dancing around a bit, kind of looking at the wall, envisioning the farm theme. Bobby thought that this was the music from when Lucy and Annie were co-eds at some college. He listened to the sound, the lyrics –

_The birds and bees will sing (sing)_  
_The jams begin to ring_  
_The good vibes flow from me to you (yeah yeah)_  
_The evening turns to night_  
_The fire and moonlight_  
_The dance of all who came before_  
_Who got the hooch, baby_  
_Who got the only sweetest thing in the world_  
_Who got the love, who got the fresh-e-freshy_  
_Who got the only sweetest thing in the world_  
_Let__'__s get real, let__'__s get heavy_  
_Till the water breaks the levee_  
_Let__'__s get loose, loose, who got the hooch_

Bobby smiled. He wasn't quite certain that this actual song was something that Lucy danced around to in a bar when she was underaged, but it was definitely the sound. In fact, Lucy was dressed kind of like a co-ed. She was wearing dark blue gym shorts, an NYPD academy sweatshirt of his that was now way too small for him, but fit over her pregnant frame, and she had her hair up high in a bouncy pony tail. Outside of the fact that she was just about 8 months pregnant, bouncing around singing to _Everything_, she could've been 19 years old again. The song was ending and Annie turned the volume down a bit and said she was going to get a bottle of water from the kitchen, so she scooted out of the room by Bobby in the doorway.

"I think she likes it, the music." Lucy was smiling.

"Annie?" Bobby asked, revealing that he really was still half asleep.

"The baby, she likes it." Lucy was still kind of jumping around. Bobby smiled. He was thinking that the baby probably did like the music. If Lucy liked the music, then she was probably releasing endorphins, so the baby was probably happy as well. He was about to say all of that when his eyes caught on the bruises on Lucy's knees. He hadn't really had a whole lot of time to think about Lucy's nightmare from the other night. He had been caught up in stuff at work. But now standing there in what was to be his daughter's room, he couldn't take his eyes away from the bruises, from the memory of how Lucy had scrambled across the bedroom floor, how she had sleepily mumbled something about wanting to be safe. He felt sick, he wanted her to feel safe, he wanted to be the one to make her feel safe.

"Bobby?" Lucy had stopped jumping around dancing and smiling, she was standing in front of him, her eyes full of concern. "What is it?" Bobby knew that Lucy could sense something was on his mind.

"Just something at work. Actually I should get to work." Bobby replied. He watched Lucy narrow her eyes at him as if she didn't quite believe him.

"Will you be late?" She asked, reaching out, running her fingers along his chest, over his heart.

"Yeah, probably." He admitted.

"Call me? " Lucy said.

"Of course." Bobby kissed her as Annie was returning to the room. Bobby walked back down the hall and could hear them crank the music back up, way up loud. The whole house was shaking with the alternative rock beat.

Later that night, when Bobby called she was asleep. She told him she loved him and to be safe. He had smiled, thinking about her sleepy voice as he hung up the phone. But her words, they echoed in a strange place in his brain. So instead of heading home, he found himself heading out. He asked the bartender for a fresh scotch, and neatly downed the contents in practically a single swallow. He was thinking about what it felt like to be safe. He ran his fingers along the rim of the glass and closed his eyes for a moment. He remembered, clear as it could have been yesterday, lying in bed as a boy wanting to get up to get something to drink. He hadn't really had enough to eat or drink that day, but he did not want to get out of bed because it didn't feel safe. He could hear his parents arguing, his mother not making much sense, his father very angry. So he waited until it sounded safe enough to get up to go to the kitchen. What would that be like, to have a safe life.

Part of him knew that Lucy's words had been a simple wish, something most parents think about for their chldren. Safe, such a basic thing that was so significantly missing from his childhood. Bobby ordered another drink, a few brain cells thinking that he should head home, the rest of his brain cells were a little too numb to have a coherent thought.

"Goren." Bobby turned, surprised to see Mike Logan moving to sit down next to him. "Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world…" Logan smiled and ordered a beer. "Shouldn't you be home?" Logan looked at Bobby.

"Home." Bobby repeated the word and nodded. "Probably." Bobby said, but the word came out with all of the syllables kind of blurring together. Logan waved off the bartender from serving Bobby another drink. "Lucy wants the baby to be safe. She wants to be safe." Bobby offered.

"The baby?" Logan asked, understanding the first part of what Bobby said, but not following the next.

"Lucy. She wants to be safe. Lucy wants to be safe. She's not safe. I'm not safe." Bobby spun the ice around in his glass with his finger.

"You should get home." Logan settled his tab and Bobby's.

"What's that like, to be safe?" Bobby asked.

"I have no idea." Logan honestly admitted, thinking for a moment about his own life. "But you need to get your shit together and figure that out. And, you need to get your ass home."

"She doesn't feel safe." Bobby moved to stand, and stumbled.

"Should she?" Logan stood, giving Bobby a hand, and Logan's meaning was clear. Bobby looked at Logan, and then took a long hard look at himself.

"I should get home." Bobby said, and let Logan drop him at home. Bobby could tell that Lucy was still asleep. All of the signs were in place, signs that he realized he felt comforting. The lights were off, all except for the outside light and a small light in the kitchen. The family room couch was neat, and the magazines were piled neatly on the ottoman. When he walked into the kitchen to turn off the light, he could hear the dishwasher sounding like it was starting its dry cycle and even though Lucy didn't drink coffee, she had set up the coffee maker for him for the next morning. All of her small routines that he could count on. Bobby walked down the hall and kind of leaned in the doorway to the baby's room. Lucy and Annie had painted the accent wall one of the deep barn red colors. The ceiling was pale, pale blue, with white fluffy clouds. And, Bobby could see the wall paper cut outs of farm animals and barns laid out in an order on the floor, that Lucy would probably apply to the other walls tomorrow. He could see the beginning of a mural on the windowed wall, with grassy hills laid out in greens on the lower half and the upper half of the wall was the sky blue that blended into the ceiling.

Bobby made his way to the bathroom and washed up. He rinsed his mouth with mouthwash, and splashed water across his face. He undressed and made it into bed, pulling Lucy into his arms, tight against his chest. She felt different now, against him. He used to be able to wrap his arms completely around her, but now, he could only seem to wrap one arm around her and lay his other hand on her pregnant middle. He could feel her heart against his hand, and he closed his eyes and thought about feeling his baby girl's heart with his other. She didn't wake, she just automatically snuggled into his arms. He realized, even with his senses slightly impaired, that she did that, she yielded into him, came to him, she was always touching him, seeking reassurance from him. He thought about how she often laid her hand on his heart. It fascinated him that she somehow got comfort from that, she gained comfort from touching his heart.

Lucy wouldn't know it until she looked back over time, in that moment she received a gift, or maybe it was Bobby who received a gift. Bobby closed his eyes, and let himself feel safe, he felt safe in this house, in this home, with her in his arms. And, that was the last time for a long time that he would stumble home alone, and sad, and drunk.

* * *

_**Author's Note**_: InfinityStar, way long ago, offered "first gift." This is what hit me in the head today. 


End file.
